Domestic Life
by Nirah
Summary: As requested by the fans: Following the plot of Breaking Destiny, this series provides glimpses of the characters' lives after the Nightmare's War and before the events of the upcoming sequel. Mostly PG-the rating is for the occasional intimate chapters.
1. 2011 - An Easy Sacrifice

**2011**

The sky was beginning to brighten with streaks of pink and orange light. Harry would be awake soon. Donna's house would come to life, to the sound of running water and boiling kettles, bare feet and slippers alike scuffling across carpet. But hopefully no crying.

The Doctor had been awake all night, tending to Ganbri and trying to bring down the fever that had suddenly come from nowhere. He still burned hot to the touch, but at least it had gone down enough to let the baby sleep. He was only four months old, the Doctor thought sourly, he was supposed to be focusing on learning one face from another or how to make his own hands obey him properly. He wasn't supposed to be awake all night, red faced and screaming.

It frightened him when the dreadful sound hadn't even woken Harry. The two of them were so in tune with each other that Harry seemed to always know the second that Ganbri woke up, crying or not. Last night, he simply laid there, not even stirring. The Doctor knew exactly what he would see if he leaned over to look at his husband's face, but he made himself do it anyway.

Eyes open, wide and staring. Harry didn't respond to sound or sight or touch. The Doctor could poke at him, roll him over, shout at him. Nothing happened. Harry would lay there silently and stare blindly into space—the only sign of life was the quiet, shallow breathing.

His eyes always opened when Ganbri cried but, since their return to Earth two months ago, sometimes that was all that happened. Harry claimed that he didn't remember anything, thinking he had been asleep the whole time. The Doctor had performed many tests and it seemed that it was just like Harry's other attacks—his mind and body were simply acting out in their struggle to handle stress.

Once, when Harry's brown eyes stared at him without seeing, the Doctor tried looking into his mind. It was like drowning beneath a hundred miles of black sea. It was heavy, the pressure unbearable and paralyzing, and each of his senses had been dulled until it seemed that there was nothing but water and space and static.

Maybe that was why Ganbri cried so hard. Maybe he reached out for his Tokrah in his distress and found nothing but emptiness.

He kissed the baby's soft head, wrapping his arms a little tighter around the little form protectively. _I'm here,_ he tried to communicate to Ganbri with his thoughts and emotions, the same way that Harry did so perfectly. _I will always be here._

He hadn't been able to communicate too well with Ganbri, still recovering from the grievous strain he had put on his mind when he faced Kahlia. Sometimes he still heard the Beast snarling in his head. Sometimes he worried that his fractured mind might never heal, worried that he might never bond with his son properly. He tried his best to slip in little thoughts or emotions when he could, even though it usually left his head aching for an hour or two later.

He could see the TARDIS through the window, parked carefully between the garden shed and a rose bush in the backyard. He yearned for her. The TARDIS had always kept him safe and comforted him when he needed it. Suddenly he found himself needing to do that job for others and it made him appreciate her hard work all the more. Like a frightened child running into the arms of his mother, the Doctor could only think that everything would somehow be better if he could only run away in his TARDIS again.

But his family was in no state to travel. Leaving them behind was not even an option. He wished he could at least sleep in his own room, in the bed that had cradled him for seven hundred years through all the best and worst times of his life. Harry had wisely insisted that they stay in the homes of their friends until they were both better, in case something happened and, in their vulnerable states, they were unable to take care of Ganbri. It was the safest thing to do really but, oh, how strange it was to try to sleep to the sound of lonely wind when he was used to the rhythmic humming of his ship.

His head was starting to ache already. Harry kept telling him that his mind would mend better if he slept more. The Doctor knew he was right. But sleeping was a lot harder these days. Some nights he dreamed of Sevil's gentle hands bathing his wounds or of Mouse's eyes gazing lifelessly up at him from the floor. Some nights he dreamed of Kahlia holding her vicious silver knife with bodies of children heaped at her feet. Harry's children, but his own too—lost centuries ago. Sahrrea always appeared so burnt and blackened in his dreams that he only recognized her by the green flecks in her eyes. Sometimes he even heard her mother wailing somewhere that he couldn't see.

He told himself that the dreams plagued him to remind him of what he must do. And what he mustn't.

He would not fail another child. He would not fail another spouse. If it meant that he had to sleep in a strange bed, away from the loving comfort of his faithful TARDIS, then that was simply the price of it. He would not be selfish this time. He would not be reckless.

Staying in Donna's house was temporary, of course, but he knew what it was the start of. They could not travel while Ganbri was growing and eventually Harry would want to get a house of their own. It was against his nature to settle and stay in one place but it seemed that following his nature had never done him any favours when it came to having a family. And he wanted them more than he wanted to travel. He _needed_ them more.

So it was okay that the ship that felt like a mother sat empty in the garden. It was okay that his neck was sore from unfamiliar pillows and the sun peeked through the window to wake him whether he was ready for it or not. It was okay if Harry still suffered through attacks, and if they changed or became more challenging. It was okay that he got headaches when he used his mind to sooth his infant son.

It was all okay because it meant that he was there with them. _For_ them. He would teach Ganbri everything he needed to know to safely drive a car or pilot a ship and the Doctor would explore the Bluesmoke Marshes another day when his son was old enough to go with him. He would discover worlds with Harry when he was well and spend the day in bed with him when he wasn't, and his husband would die someday, holding his hand when they were both old and happy.

So as his head ached and he blinked with exhaustion into the light of dawn, the feeling of Ganbri's heat against his chest and the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway brought a smile to his lips.

Earth's star shone warm and bright as it emerged from the horizon and it was absolutely beautiful.

Even if it did rise every day.

* * *

Hi, everyone! Some of you may have already read this as I have posted a few chapters of the Domestic Life series on my tumblr already. There is more to come! I hope to do one chapter for each year leading up the events of the sequel (27, for anyone keeping track). I also hope to put a new one up at least once a week, bot no promises. I am working on the plot for the sequel but I'm not quite ready to begin writing it yet. Hopefully, I'll have it ready by the time I'm finished this series.

I am taking requests and/or suggestions for the Domestic Life series, as I am really writing it for you guys. Nothing guaranteed but everything mentioned will be considered. Please note that I'm not fond of simply being begged for porn :P I will include some romance and more intimate chapters (thus the rating) so don't fret. Feel free to ask questions or make requests through reviews or private messages.

Please remember to review :)


	2. 2011 - Baby Time

**2011**

It was probably the fiftieth cup of tea he had made that day. He'd tried to make the Doctor eat—chicken soup, jam on toast, he even tried slicing up a banana—but anything he presented was waved away with a groan. Everything except tea. He liked having something to sip and he said that something hot felt better than cold, but even _thinking_ of chewing something had his stomach rolling with threats to purge.

The Doctor's face seemed to transition between flushed and pale with every hour. He couldn't bear to have a blanket pulled any higher than his waist, claiming the heat felt suffocating, but was wearing two pairs of socks with thick slippers because his feet were freezing. He really ought to have been in bed and Harry had voiced that opinion many times already, but there was no point. The Doctor would simply lie there, flushed and feverish, with his feet in Donna's lap, and produce another argument that made even less sense than the last one.

Despite how dreadfully sick he was, the Doctor refused to leave Donna's side. And as long as she could hold off going to the hospital, Donna refused to leave his. Her labour was slow and, so far, relatively easy. Whenever she felt something a little frightening or painful, she'd let out a whimper and the Doctor would dutifully force himself to sit up so that he could put an arm around her or squeeze her hand. Any time his stomach lurched and he rolled over to reach for the nearby bucket, Donna patted his back while her face turned away with a disgusted look.

The folly could have been avoided if only the illness were transmittable to humans. The Doctor, knowing Donna could have her baby any day now, had been very quick to explain to everyone that it was impossible for a human to catch his bug. That meant that when Shaun called to announce that Donna was in labour, the Doctor dragged himself out of bed so that he could sit with her and she allowed it.

Ganbri had been especially fussy as well. Harry worried for a while that he might have been getting sick too but none of the symptoms appeared. He must have just sensed his Banni's distress, Harry decided. Even now, as the baby sat on the floor, clumsily ramming a toy tractor into a barn full of animals just heaped onto one another, he didn't look particularly happy.

"I've heard some people can be in labour for _days_," Donna chattered nervously as she accepted a fresh cup of tea from Harry. "Bethany Milton said her oldest took thirty-two hours! He was twisted around all funny and his head got stuck or something. If they'd known he was stuck before it wouldn't have taken as long but they didn't check for ages. What if that happens? Is there a way to tell if she's stuck now, just in case?"

"I'm not doing that," the Doctor answered quickly, pulling his hands up close to his chest protectively.

She smacked him on the thigh. "You're damn right," she answered roughly. "I mean, don't you have some kind of scanners or something? Can't you just wave some sort of beepy thing over me and find out?"

"I'm sure it will be fine," Harry assured her, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Ganbri. "Earth doctors know a lot these days. Child birth is nothing to worry about."

Donna let out an odd, nervous sounding sort of laugh and pointed a shaky finger at him. "No, no, no," she said quickly. "You almost died. When your boy was born, you both almost _died_. I put my hands _inside_ your chest and pinched an artery between my bloody fingers because it was the only thing I could do to keep you alive—"

"That was different," Shaun interrupted quietly. "Harry was injured. If he hadn't been hurt, Ganbri most likely would have been born without any problems. Right?"

"Right," Harry answered. For a second, he could almost feel the throbbing in his chest again as the flesh simultaneously tried to heal and tear itself apart. He'd never felt so cold or so exhausted in all his life.

"I've been paying attention," the Doctor added, reaching a clammy hand out to take Donna's. "The whole pregnancy, I've not seen a thing to—" He stopped abruptly, his face suddenly turning a shade paler. Donna pushed at his shoulder to make him turn over and he snatched up the bucket on the floor.

It was always a bit awkward when that happened. They'd tried a couple of times to continue talking, to distract them from the terrible sound of the Doctor's retching and the splashing at the bottom of the pail, but it seemed impossible to stay on topic. Plus, they all felt rather guilty for trying to pretend that nothing was happening. Most times, everyone just sort of looked away and pretended to see something very interesting on the wall or the carpet.

Harry paid attention this time, noting that the Doctor produced little more than perhaps a tablespoon of thick fluid before he rolled onto his back again, groaning. His body had given up everything already and there was precious little being returned to him.

"What if it's a boy?" Donna started up again. "Carla Miller was telling me that those scans aren't always right. It turns out people get boys when they're expected girls all the time 'cause they've got their little bits tucked away somewhere during the scan. All the clothes we have are for a girl!"

Harry decided to let Shaun handle that one, pulling himself to his feet and hurrying off to the kitchen instead. He came back with a packet of salted crackers, pulling a couple out to feed to Ganbri before setting it on the Doctor's chest.

"Eat some of these and drink your tea."

"I don't want them," the Doctor complained, pushing the crackers away but obediently grabbing his mug of tea. Harry had had to give him a bendy straw to drink it with so that he didn't have to sit up, though it did make him look all the more pitiful.

"I didn't ask if you wanted them."

The Doctor made an unhappy little sound but pulled a couple of crackers from the packet. He made sure to make a show of putting one in his mouth and chewed it slowly, looking a little greener every second. In the end, he got it down and reached for another after a minute. He also took an extra one out and tried to pass it to Donna.

"No, thanks," she answered quickly. "Nothing but water for me until the baby comes."

Harry noticed she was shifting around in her seat more often. She didn't look nearly as relaxed as she had an hour ago and he thought he could see a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. Everyone had assured her that most women were in labour for hours before anything exciting happened, but Harry was beginning to suspect that she may have been moving along a little faster than anticipated.

"How come?" the Doctor asked her, eating his second and third crackers much easier than first.

"June Fuller told me that women usually have a poo on the table when they're pushing but then Karen Harris said it was bollocks. She says when she had her kids, she didn't eat anything once she went into labour and she never did any mess."

"It doesn't matter, darling," Shaun said quietly, though the look on his face showed that he clearly wasn't keen on seeing the described action. Then again, Harry supposed most men weren't keen on seeing _any_ of it. Not too long before this time period, human men waited in a quiet room, completely separated from their wives and just waited for a baby to be put in their arms.

"I just don't want to remember the first time I hold my baby to also be the first time in my adult life that I shat myself, alright?"

"They all shit themselves," Harry said with a shrug.

The Doctor pushed a cracker at her again. "But no one even thinks about that part. All they ever remember is the baby."

"And your wife, girlfriend, whatever—the one who had your first kid—did she?"

Harry's mouth dropped open for a second. There was always some kind of silent understanding between the Doctor and his friends when it came to asking questions like that. The understanding was really just along the lines of _don't_. But Donna was nervous and fidgeting and becoming less comfortable with every passing minute. She probably said the words before she'd even thought of them properly.

But, even when he was sick with fever, the Doctor always knew how to recover from an awkward moment as though it never happened. "I honestly don't know. Even if she did, I don't remember. I was too busy looking at her and my daughter to notice anything else in the room."

"Really?" Donna asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

The Doctor smiled. "The world could have ended then and I wouldn't have noticed."

There was a silence that followed for a moment. Shaun was smiling, his mouth half open as though he were trying to say something. But nobody said anything and it was terribly quiet. For some reason, it made Harry dreadfully uncomfortable.

"Nenye pooped," he blurted. When everyone looked at him in surprise, he quickly pulled Ganbri into his lap and pretended that he was smoothing out the mess of black hair. "I wasn't there when Kahlia was born or anything, but she told me afterwards. Said had no idea she'd done it until she was waiting for them to clean the baby and she noticed the smell . . . No one was bothered by it, that's all."

Another awkward silence. Even Ganbri seemed to be staring at him. God, it was hot in that room all of a sudden. Was he sweating?

"Thanks, Harry," Shaun said with a flat voice. "Stellar support."

His hearts were beating a bit too fast and he felt inexplicably anxious. Ganbri quickly picked up on it and began to whimper and whine in his arms. He would be a year old soon—a whole year!—and yet they seemed just as connected to each other as when Harry carried him beneath his skin. He pulled the boy up to his chest, patting him on the back and trying to shush him, and suddenly the foreign anxiety he felt made sense.

It wasn't his own.

"Donna, you've got to go," he said.

"What?" Shaun and the Doctor asked in unison.

"Why haven't you said anything?" Harry ignored them, looking only at the woman before him.

Donna's eyes grew wide, quickly looking away from Harry, darting anywhere in the room that wasn't another person. Then she accidentally looked into Shaun's eyes and very suddenly burst into tears.

"I'm not ready!" she sobbed. "I can't _do_ this! I'm supposed to push an entire human being out of me and I don't think I can actually, _physically_ do that! She's going to cry and I'm supposed to know what to do because I'm her mum but _how am I supposed to know_? What if I'm too stupid to—"

"Donna, the time for this break down was really a bit earlier than this," Shaun said quite nervously, quickly standing up and gathering their coats. "Let's get to the hospital, love."

"I don't want to go yet!" Donna protested, suddenly grabbing at the Doctor's hands as if he would anchor her there somehow. "I'm not ready!"

"She's going to come out whether you're ready or not," the Doctor said sensibly, trying to pull his hands back.

"But you can do something, can't you? You're a doctor—an _alien_ doctor! Can't you just give me something or point some buzzy thing at me and make it stop? Just make her stay in for another day or two until I'm ready."

The Doctor freed his hands and placed one on her back, encouraging her to stand up. "You know what? As it happens, I'm all out of beepy things _and_ buzzy things today. You see, I—" He stopped, clapped a hand over his mouth, frozen for a second, then he very suddenly rolled over and snatched up his bucket again.

"Come on," Shaun hurried forward, reaching for Donna's hands. She was staring through tearful and horrified eyes at the Doctor while his entire body moved like a wave was going through and returned the crackers it had stolen from the world.

"But—but—"

Harry hurried to his feet, with Ganbri still fussing against his chest. "Give us a hug and we'll pass it on when he stops," he said. Donna took up the offer without hesitation. Harry squeezed her tight and Ganbri smiled at her despite the way his lip was wobbling with the threat of tears a moment ago.

There were a few more promises to keep them updated and wishes of luck as the couple put shoes and coats on. The Doctor managed a sound somewhere between a retch and a belch before his face vanished in the bucket again but, because it was accompanied with a wave of his hand, it might have been some sentiment of luck or love or reassurance. Donna was still crying, though she didn't seem quite so scared anymore. Then they were gone.

When the Doctor had himself under control, he didn't bother to roll onto his back again. His body relaxed, melting into the couch with his arms hanging off the side, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. He was exhausted and Harry thought for the hundredth time that he ought to be in bed. There would be no getting him there now though. He was too tired to move and, though Harry was sure he could lift the weight, the Doctor was simply too tall for Harry to be able to carry him properly. Likely he would just have to sleep on the couch until he'd regained some strength.

"Uncle Harry," the Doctor whispered happily after he'd caught his breath. "That's you."

It made him smile a bit. He had been an uncle before but somehow he didn't think it mattered at the time. His nieces and nephews were all strangers to him and he hadn't even met most of them by the time the Time War came around. But this was a new life. A better one. And he found that this time, genetic family or not, he cared.

"And you?" he answered. "You can't be Uncle Doctor."

"Why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous."

Perhaps if he had been feeling better, the Doctor might have taken that as a challenge and spent the next hour debating on why Uncle Doctor was perfectly acceptable. But he was so very tired.

"Fine," he muttered, eyes closing and sighing in defeat. "I suppose I'll be Uncle John."

"A good name."

"Well then, Uncle Harry," the Doctor groaned, his eyes still closed and his lips barely moving. "Could you fetch me something cold?"

By the time Harry came back with a cold wash cloth, the Doctor was asleep. He must have just barely been keeping himself awake for Donna's sake and now he was finally free to get the rest he needed.

Harry gently pushed on his shoulder, rolling him onto his back again, before placing the cloth on his forehead. The Doctor groaned and shifted but did not wake. Next he laid a thin blanket over him, grabbing an extra one that he folded over a couple of times and laid over the Doctor's feet, and left a glass of cool water and box of crackers on the coffee table.

Ganbri played happily on the floor while Harry took the Doctor's bucket to clean it out. Their son had been extremely perceptive when it came to his parents since birth and his mood changed swiftly according to the way they felt. The Doctor must have been feeling better now that he was sleeping.

Harry came back with the baby monitor in his hand after he'd laid Ganbri down to sleep, a pillow and extra blanket tucked under his free arm. He couldn't leave the Doctor to sleep alone on the couch when he was so sick. What if he needed something?

The other couch was only made for two, which made it tricky to find a way to lie on comfortably. He turned this way and that, unsure of what to do with his feet for a long time. He was beginning to think that he should just lie on the floor when he got one leg perched up on the back of the couch and the other slung over the arm rest and was finally comfortable.

As he laid so awkwardly on the little couch, he thought about where his life had brought him. He'd just put his infant son to bed on his own, knowing all the clever tricks to calm him down without being told. He was sleeping on the couch so that he could make sure his sick husband was properly cared for and there was not a bit of him that felt irritated about it. At that very moment, he had a friend somewhere—a _proper_ friend—giving birth to a baby that would call him Uncle and look up to him.

As sleep crept into his eyes, he smirked a little to himself at what was perhaps his most childish thought of the day.

_I am so damn good at being a grown-up._

* * *

I know I said one chapter per year but I couldn't just _skip_ Donna being in labour :P Also, someone requested a chapter of Harry taking care of the Doctor for once and this is the best I've got at the moment, so I hope it's good enough ^_^" Feel free to throw more requests and ideas and me, and please remember to review :)


	3. 2012 - New Lives and Old

**2012**

"Hmm," Ganbri hummed with emphasis. "Hmm. _Hmmmm_."

The Doctor wasn't sure where he had picked that habit up from but he found it adorable. Whenever he was presented with a puzzle or had to think about something, the toddler would tilt his head from side to side and _hmm_ until he sorted it out. Jack had taught him to scratch his chin while he did it as well.

"Look here," the Doctor offered helpfully, pointing to a group of smaller rings Ganbri had piled off to the side. Ganbri looked at the pile and _hmm_'ed again. The Doctor waited a little while longer before moving his hand to point out a specific area of the pile but Ganbri quickly grabbed it and pushed it away.

"Alright," the Doctor said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. Ganbri had never liked to be helped too much. He wanted to do things on his own. Even when he was learning to walk he was very eager to pull himself free of his helper's hands and lunge forward on his own.

"You don't think that's a little too advanced for him?" Jack asked from his spot on the couch.

"No," the Doctor answered simply. "Maybe for you . . ."

It was an old thing that he'd dug out of the deepest forgotten closets of the TARDIS—a box full of thin metal rings and lines of different sizes. He had tried to teach Ganbri to write Gallifreyan with a pencil but the muscles in his hands weren't quite to developed enough yet, so he sought an alternative. This way, he could choose the right shapes to use from his little kit and lay them on top of each other.

Gallifrey was gone and, with it, its people and its languages, but the Doctor felt that it was somehow important to keep it alive where he could. Harry insisted that their priorities lie in English, but it was such an easy language to a Time Lord—even a one-year-old. He'd mastered the alphabet in record speed and, though he wasn't yet old enough to even speak the words properly, he could move the magnetic letters on the fridge around to spell a couple of basic words. The Doctor didn't see any harm in at least teaching him to write his name in Gallifreyan.

"Ba," Ganbri chirped happily, holding up a metal ring for his inspection.

"That's right," he said, smiling.

Ganbri put the ring down over top of the other ones. It wasn't quite in the right place but Ganbri noticed before the Doctor could say anything and put it right. He didn't stop to look for praise. He just leaned forward to look at the piles he had organized and began to hum again.

Harry stepped in through the front door, covered in oil and dirt and wiping his hands on a raggedly towel. He glanced at the metal rings on the floor but didn't say anything about them.

"Fixed it," he muttered, bending down to take his boots off.

The Doctor answered with a thank you and ignored the quiet chuckle that escaped Jack. He seemed to find it hilarious that the Doctor had been unable to find the source of the terrible grinding sound his car was making on his own. He had tried, as he usually was able to fix any machine put before him, but in the end he just couldn't figure out what was wrong. He blamed it on the fact that it was old and primitive technology that he wasn't used to. He also blamed it on the car, saying the car knew he didn't like it and so it didn't like him in return.

"Have they started yet?" Harry asked next, pulling off his shirt and carefully bunching it in his hands so it wouldn't drop dirt through the house.

"No," Jack answered lazily, flopping onto his side so that he could lay his legs over the armrest of the couch. "It's all just adverts and following the torch so far."

"Right, I'm jumping in the shower then."

"Toktok!" Ganbri suddenly shouted, twisting his little body right around so that he could hold up a metal ring for Harry's inspection. Harry had gotten himself a job at the university a couple of months before and his sudden disappearances from the house had made their son thirsty for his attention. He wanted to show Harry everything he found or mashed together and, more often than not, preferred to hold his Tokrah's hand whenever they went out.

"Yes, it's very good," Harry answered enthusiastically. "Show me when I get back, okay? I'll only be a minute. Banni will help you until then," he turned to leave the room and called back over his shoulder. "Or maybe Uncle Jack if he cares to get his feet _off_ the sofa!"

"They're over the armrest!" Jack shouted back, then looked at the Doctor as though it was him who had said something. "They're not even touching!"

The Doctor simply shrugged at him. He didn't really care if there were feet on the couch and it was up to Jack to decide whether it was worth a fight with Harry. Jack crossed his arms stubbornly and left his feet where they were.

"He's gonna hit you," the Doctor warned with a smirk.

"He can try."

By the time Harry returned, Ganbri was almost finished constructing his name with only two pieces left. The word didn't sound long but it carried a lot of meaning, and so it was rather more of a bother to write than it would be in English.

Harry walked in with a towel around his waist and a light silk robe slung over his arm. "Alright, show me," he said happily to Ganbri as he moved to stand in front of the couch. The second Ganbri had turned his eyes down at his project, Harry thumped Jack hard on the shoulder with his fist, earning a very satisfying _oof!_ The Time Lord hadn't even glanced at him before he struck out so the Doctor supposed that Jack just didn't see it coming, but he also suspected that sometimes Jack allowed himself to get hit because he kind of enjoyed it. He provoked Harry far too much to not enjoy it.

Jack quickly slung his legs back over the armrest and sat up properly, which then left space for Harry to sit down beside him. He leaned forward in his seat and made wonderful _ooh_'s and _ah_'s as Ganbri proudly showed off his work, making the boy grin gleefully.

"Banni's been teaching you lots while I'm at work, hasn't he?" Harry said with a perfectly happy tone while his eyes glanced at the Doctor with a look of amused annoyance.

"It's just his name," the Doctor felt compelled to answer.

"Yes, it's a hard one to make," Harry answered, speaking to Ganbri again. "Show me the next one then. Where's the next piece?"

They chatted for a few minutes while the Doctor sat cross-legged on the floor and helped Ganbri carefully selected piece after piece for his name. Jack started a silent war with Harry, pinching and slapping each other whenever Ganbri looked away. He was so busy enjoying the company around him that he had completely forgotten that, a long time ago, he had already lived this day.

"_My God_!" a voice from the TV cried out. "Er, what's going on here?" Eyes turned toward the screen and the Doctor suddenly remembered what had been nagging at the back of his mind ever since Jack suggested that they watch the Olympic ceremonies together.

"Um . . . the crowd has vanished! U-um, they're gone. Everyone is _gone_!" the announcer continued in a voice of hopeless confusion as the screen revealed a completely deserted stadium. "Thousands of people are just gone, uh . . . um . . . right in front of my eyes!"

"The hell is this?" Jack asked, leaning forward at the TV. "Mass abduction?"

"I'll call Grandfather," Harry said quickly as he began to stand up.

"Leave it," the Doctor answered, stopping both of the other men before they could stand. "It's fine."

"Um, it's impossible," the voice of the announcer continued, stammering helplessly. "Bob, shall we join you in the box?"

The Doctor watched as the screen flickered to another image empty of human life. Jack and Harry were both staring at him as though he had gone utterly mad. He tried to ignore it. It wasn't until he found what he was looking for that he even realized a part of himself was stretching out his telepathic muscles, using the techniques he had refined over the last couple of years to reach out.

"Bob?" whimpered the dismayed announcer. "Not you too, Bob!"

"What do you mean 'it's fine'?" Harry asked with a definite edge to his voice.

"In case you didn't hear the man, Bob's gone, Doctor," Jack added, pointing at the TV as though he thought the Doctor hadn't seen it. "Thousands of people just vanished into thin air. How is that fine?"

"It's already been taken care of," the Doctor answered simply. "They'll come back."

There was a slightly tense moment in which the two continued to stare at them. Jack was half way between sitting and being on his feet, anxiously glancing between the two Time Lords. That annoyed him. Once upon a time, Jack did whatever the Doctor told him to without question. These days it always seemed that Jack always waited for Harry to agree. Harry claimed that Jack did the same thing to both of them, but the Doctor hadn't noticed it.

Harry was looking at him with those piercing eyes of his. He felt his presence pressing gently against his mind and the Doctor hesitated to let him in. Rose was there—just a faint echo, miles and miles away, but she was there. Suddenly he felt vulnerable, like a wounded animal protecting its nest. Something deep inside the shadows of his mind whimpered and let out quiet growls of warning as Harry crept closer.

Eventually, Harry found her. An old memory, living again, Rose was out there saving the world. The Doctor could feel her frustrations with Trish Webber, the empathy she felt for a frightened little girl, and the fear she felt for the Doctor himself. He was a little worried about how Harry might react—he'd always felt jealous of the Doctor's "women", Rose especially. They'd spoken of her before and the Doctor had made it very clear that, though Harry was the only person he wanted to be with, a small part of him would always love Rose. As he offered up the weak connection to his husband, he imagined that this must be how the Ood felt any time they held out their secondary brain to a stranger.

He could feel that Harry was uneasy, but he was kind. He reached through the connection himself, feeling and experiencing Rose, something he had never been able to do before. He never said a word. After a moment, he withdrew and left the Doctor to hold onto the connection alone.

"As he says, then," Harry said quietly to Jack, leaning back in his seat again and bringing a slightly forced smile to his face. "It's already sorted."

The Doctor tried to smile, but it felt a little harder than normal. Part of him was happy to feel Rose's presence again, but it had its bitterness too. He wished he could go find her now, just so he could thank her and let her know that she didn't have to worry about him so much—he was okay now.

The announcer on the TV continued with his panicked dialogue and they all sat in silence until the phone rang. Harry got up to answer it and his voice sounded perfectly cheerful as he explained to Donna that everything was fine. But the Doctor could see his eyes, and there was some shadow in them.

"Ba," Ganbri chirped, temporarily abandoning his project. His son had always been intuitive and, even at such a young age, was able to tell when someone could benefit from a hug. The Doctor found a true smile creeping across his face as the toddler climbed onto him, standing on his thighs to wrap tiny arms around his neck.

"That's my boy," the Doctor said happily, giving him a good squeeze.

_Be glad_, he thought. _It turned it out best for all of us in the end._

And so he sent happy thoughts to Rose, wondering if she would even receive them through the pathetically weak connection he had managed to create. She was so very far away and so very frightened that he doubted she would manage to feel any of it, but he tried just the same.

Harry finished on the phone quickly, slipped his light robe on to better cover himself, and returned to the couch. "So where are you then?" he asked, making a conscious effort to reach his hand out and gently touch the Doctor's back.

"I'm actually in a drawing. Crayon and paper, that's all I am," the Doctor answered with a scratch of his head. "It's a long story."

"So what is it then?" Jack asked next. "Scientists? Slavers?"

"Just a pair of frightened children, that's all."

He didn't really feel like telling the story.

Harry watched him quietly for a moment through the corner of his eye and then suddenly sat up straight. "Right," he said loudly, clapping his hands together once to catch Ganbri's attention. "If you're going to learn this, you had better learn it properly. Come on then." With some careful adjusting of his robe, Harry slid onto the floor with them. He made a show of it, helping Ganbri finish spelling out his own name. He told Ganbri he was clever and that he would be writing books in no time, and Ganbri squealed happily. The boy was excited about it now and wanted to keep going, so Harry decided to teach him how to write 'Tokrah'.

"Just look at this!" a voice cried out from the TV. "Utterly _incredible_ scenes at the Olympic Stadium. 80000 athletes and spectators that disappeared—they've come back!"

Jack cheered and Ganbri copied him, throwing his hands in the air without knowing what he was celebrating. The Doctor smiled, feeling a small swell of pride inside, knowing that Rose had saved thousands that day all by herself.

Harry glanced at him with a bit of a smirk. "Are you going to be on the telly?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," he answered with a grin. "Any second."

Harry took hold of Ganbri by the waist and turned him towards the screen. "Look," he said, pointing. "Banni's going to be on telly. Keep watching."

Ganbri, young as he was, was clever enough to understand. His brown grew wide and round, staring expectantly at the screen. The torchbearer collapsed, the flame rolling from his hand onto the street. The announcer narrated in dismay but Ganbri visibly tensed and quivered in excitement, knowing that the trouble could only mean one thing . . .

The Doctor thought it was a bit odd to watch himself appear on TV, but Ganbri squealed again and clapped his hands in delight. "Ba!" he shouted happily, pointing his finger at the screen.

"No way," Jack chuckled with a shake of his head.

Harry was quiet, but smiling. He peered at the Doctor, eyes peeking at him over the dark tufts of their son's hair—that piercing stare that made him feel so exposed. Harry knew. Even without telepathy he knew that the Doctor was thinking of Rose. He knew this was her victory more than it was the Doctor's. He knew that the Doctor was proud of her for it, even now.

"Look at your daddy," Harry said, suddenly turning his eyes back down to Ganbri. "He saved the day, didn't he? Your Banni's a hero, you lucky boy."

He felt a presence prowling around the outskirts of his mind—territorial, defensive. Harry could still sense the connection with Rose but chose not to touch it, instead turning away from it disdainfully and pretending it didn't exist.

That was okay, he decided. That would be their middle ground. He could keep his memories and the love he felt for Rose in his head—he could think of her and remember her and even miss her. But she had no place in their lives. Those memories were not meant to be shared and her stories were not meant to be told. She had no place with Harry or Ganbri, like so many that had come and gone before her.

"Well done, Lahrre," Harry said quietly. "The Earth owes you another debt."

Rose's presence was fading, swallowed up in the senses of his past self, so he let it go. "Yes," he found himself saying without hesitation. "Well, I _am_ brilliant."


	4. 2013 - Old Habits

Harry was still fuming.

The doctor was a kindly, plump woman with a head of curly blonde hair and a perfectly cheerful disposition, but it did nothing to calm him. She chatted with him happily, asking him about his family and his job while he gave her short, sharp sounding answers. She didn't mind.

Wilfred had to keep grasping at his wrists to stop him from trying to scratch at the scrapes on his arm that hadn't yet been bandaged. He held a small bag of ice against the Time Lord's bloodied knuckles and quietly reminded him that everyone was safe whenever he started to get a bit twitchy.

Ganbri had hit his head on the road when he fell. The doctors at the hospital had all assured them that he was fine but they were doing a few tests to be sure. The Doctor was with the boy now, only having a few bruises himself, but Harry had been forced to leave them so that his own wounds could be treated.

His left arm and part of his back had been scraped raw by the road, his knuckles bleeding from the man he had hit, and his face kept a few souvenirs from the man who hit him back. A sizable ring had left a gash in Harry's cheek and brow, his lip slightly swollen but not bleeding. He had been told that his knees and legs hadn't sustained any serious damage, but that they would likely be very swollen and painful for a few days. They were already bruising, the angry swollen red slowly turning to a sickening purple that was hot to the touch.

"Why haven't we heard back from them yet?" Harry said as the doctor cleaned out the wound on his brow. "How long does it take to do a simple scan?"

"Not to worry, dear, they'll be along soon enough," the doctor answered him merrily. "They probably just want to be really thorough—making sure your little boy's alright, that's all."

"A scan should take seconds," he grumbled, pulling his hand away to scratch at his road rash, only to have Wilfred yank it back again. "You would think the government would do something about the primitive technology in these damned hospital."

"I'll ring the Prime Minister in the morning," Wilfred joked quietly, hoping to coax a smile from Harry. "Tell him you said so."

"That's who you remind me of!" the doctor said suddenly, stopping her work for a brief moment to get a better look at his face. "That P.M. we had a couple years back—the one who went mad. You know you look just like him?"

Harry's brows hung heavily over his eyes, giving them a dark look as he glared at her with what Wilfred could only imagine was loathing. "I've been told."

"You know, we never really got the proper story on what happened to him," the doctor continued as though she didn't even notice. She chattered about Harold Saxon and all the bizarre stories that surrounded him, completely oblivious to the fact that Harry was not just a look-alike.

And a face was not the only thing that Harold Saxon had left behind. His wrath had been dormant for a long time, sleeping away quietly to the lullaby of a happy life. Wilfred had almost forgotten about it until, for one remarkably fast minute, it woke up.

It had been a beautifully sunny day and they were going to meet Harry after work for a walk through the park. Ganbri toddled along happily, determined to walk the whole way without getting tired, while Wilfred held his hand and the Doctor pushed his stroller. They had to wait a few minutes outside the building before Harry emerged, a bit ruffled from his long day by the looks of it but smiling all the same.

They were halfway to the park when Ganbri finally gave in to his complaining legs. He wouldn't get into his stroller, instead lifting his arms up to his Tokrah and whimpering pitifully until Harry finally picked him up. Just a few blocks away from the park there was a crosswalk that was only a car's length from the turn of a street and, when they crossed, a car had sped around that corner and ran straight into their path.

Wilfred had been out of the way by less than a foot. The Doctor was knocked down, but the stroller between him and the vehicle had prevented anything worse than a couple of bruises. Harry only had just enough time to twist his shoulders so that his body shielded Ganbri from the impact. The car struck his legs, just low enough that it didn't crush his kneecaps, and knocked him to the road where it scraped his skin raw. Ganbri had been held tightly against his father's chest, but he still struck his head on the road when they fell together and immediately began to cry.

The Doctor was back on his feet before Wilfred was even sure what had happened. He tossed the broken stroller aside and rushed forward, pulling his wailing son from Harry's arms to look at him. He frantically searched the toddler for injury while barking questions at Harry about whether he was hurt.

For a moment, Wilfred was worried that something really was wrong when Harry didn't answer. He laid on the road, blinking slowly while his eyes lazily scanned the sky.

"Harry?" Wilfred said quietly, stretching his hand towards him.

The driver had gotten out of his car and Harry's head slowly raised from the road, brown eyes watching the stranger carefully.

"Everyone alright?" the driver asked, while his eyes scanned the front of his car for damage. "Kiddie must be okay if he's making a racket like that, eh? Sure he just a fright, that's all."

His voice was too casual. His eyes were too busy looking at his car instead of at the people before him. His body stayed at a comfortable distance instead of stepping forward to help or properly investigate. Wilfred practically heard the cogs turning in Harry's mind as he silently watched the behaviour and knew exactly what was coming next.

"Are you _fucking insane_?" Harry hissed. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, then struggled to get his damaged legs beneath him. Wilfred had once seen the Doctor leap from a flying spaceship to crash through the skylight and land on a hard marble floor without suffering too much damage. He was sure that if Harry had been human, his legs would have easily broken from the impact.

"What's that, mate?" the driver asked with an almost _happy_ tone to his voice. "S'alright, innit? Look, everyone's fine."

"Everyone is _not_ fine and it's _not_ alright," Harry growled at him, drawing up his full height to glare at him. "You didn't even _look_ before you came racing around that corner like your goddamned—"

"Hey, _you_ were the one standing in the middle of the road!" the driver interrupted loudly.

"It's a _crosswalk_ you unevolved piece of primal waste! Or have you never seen one before?"

"Harry!" the Doctor shouted at him. "Now is not the time! Ganbri hit his head!"

Harry turned his head to look. The driver said something about worrying about the kid rather than whose fault it was but Wilfred could tell by the look in those wide, wild eyes that the Time Lord didn't hear him. The Doctor was on his knees in the street, suit ruffled and one hand bleeding slightly from where he'd scraped it on the road, with Ganbri in his lap. He was checking his pupils, checking his head again, feeling along his limbs and bending his joints to find any damage.

For a moment, it was clear that that image was all Harry could perceive in the entire universe.

"My son," he said quietly, pausing a moment before turning his eyes back at the driver. "You could have killed my son," he stepped forward, suddenly acting oddly calm despite the fire flickering in his eyes. "You could have killed my husband."

If the man had been clever, he would have apologized then and there. If he had been very clever, he would have gotten back into his car and driven away as fast as he could. If he had known what the man before him had done to protect his family in the past, he would have left the country.

Instead, he looked at Ganbri, then at the Doctor, than at Harry, and smirked. "Maybe I would have been doing the boy a favour."

The attack was quick and brutal. The fool said his words and only had a split second to enjoy their flavour before Harry smiled at him and drove a fist into his mouth. The Doctor turned away quickly so that he could block Ganbri's view of the savage beating but it did nothing to quiet the sickening thuds of flesh bruising and bones fracturing.

The man had managed to hit Harry a couple of times, his ring leaving the wounds that were now being cared for, but Wilfred doubted that it was any consolation to him. The fight lasted no more than a minute but, at the end of it, there was a chunk of hair blowing down the street like a tumbleweed, a humble spattering of blood, and two fragments of a human tooth on the road.

Harry stood over the man, picked a third tooth fragment from his hand, and flicked it at him. The man groaned and swore. Harry said nothing. For a second he just stood there, admiring his work with a flicker of Saxon's old madness on his face.

Ganbri's face was bright red from crying as he kicked and fussed in the Doctor's arms. "_Toktok_!" he sobbed, holding his tiny arms out towards him while the Doctor continued to shield his eyes from the sight in vain.

Harry looked back over at his child and his partner. Harold Saxon melted away and Harold Mott returned. He limped to the Doctor's side and dropped down rather unceremoniously onto the road beside them.

"I'm here," he muttered quietly. "Sorry, little man."

The ambulances arrived shortly. So far they'd been told that all the injuries were minor. Wilfred asked about the driver and was told that, while he wouldn't be winning any beauty pageants for a long time, he would live. The police arrived to ask questions. Then a bunch of very official looking people in some kind of military outfits showed up and the police quickly vanished. Wilfred didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"Ohh, look what I found!" the doctor announced, holding out a pair of tweezers that were gripping a tiny pebble that she had pulled from the scrape in his arm. "Looks like the road gave you a going-away present. Wanna keep it?"

"No," Harry answered in what was almost a growl. His eyes were dark and anxious, his fingers tapping repeatedly against the table top that his arm was resting on, his foot jigging irritably despite his swollen knees.

"I suppose you've got enough souvenirs from the look of these scars," she touched one of the long slashes in his back. "Can I ask?"

Harry grumbled something about a tiger and asked her, as politely as he could manage, to hurry it up. No doubt he wanted to know what was going on with Ganbri and who the men in uniform were. The doctor continued chatting as she finished her work, commenting that it must be an exciting life if it included having tiger scratches. Wilfred thought it was an extremely odd life if it was easier to say a tiger scratched you than it is to tell the truth.

She was just applying the last of his bandages when the Doctor stepped in, holding a very tired looking Ganbri in his arms. "They say he's fine," he announced before anyone even had a chance to ask.

An odd little sound escaped Harry—a word half spoken that he quickly swallowed—and he held his arms out. The Doctor wordlessly handed over their son and Ganbri willingly wrapped his arms around his Tokrah's neck.

"Sorry I lost my temper," Harry said quietly, kissing the boy's head as he held him. "I didn't mean to scare you, buddy."

"You didn't," the Doctor answered knowingly.

"Oh . . . that's good."

"Is it?"

The Doctor's voice was sharp and, when Harry looked at him, his eyes were hard. They stared at each other for a long and rather tense moment until Harry's doctor pulled her gloves off.

"All done!" she announced as cheerfully as she could and thrust her hand towards the Doctor. "You must be John," she said with a smile. "I hear you're a doctor too."

"Yes," the Doctor answered, shaking her hand. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"No problem at all. Glad to see everyone's okay," she turned to look at Ganbri and smiled widely. "This little man must have been very brave." She reached her hand out to touch him, but Harry instinctively pulled away from her. He looked at the smile frozen on her face with widened eyes for a second before he relaxed and returned to his previous state, but the doctor chose not to attempt to touch Ganbri again.

"Just remember what I told you about the swelling and infection, and call if you need anything," she said happily and left the room.

After she had left, the Doctor looked Harry up and down, noting the bandages and the ice packs, the dark bruising that was appearing on his legs and knees. "I'm glad you're okay," he said in a much softer tone. "Thank you for protecting Ganbri the way that you did. I'll have a look at him myself when we get back home but I think they're right and it's nothing more than a goose egg. If you hadn't reacted the way you did, he could have been hurt a lot worse."

"Well, of course I—"

"I know," the Doctor interrupted. "But still. Just thanks."

Harry nodded and the room felt much calmer then. "And you?"

"Fine. Just a couple bruises. We'll need a new stroller though."

"I'll pick one up tomorrow."

"Good. Thanks." The Doctor shifted from one foot to the other. "Listen, there aren't going to be any charges. It's taken care of. But I've agreed to help U.N.I.T. with a job they're having some trouble with. I'll be gone for a couple of days."

"O0n your own?"

"Yes." The Doctor's voice had just enough firmness to it make it clear that it was not up for discussion.

"Okay," Harry agreed quickly. "That's fine. I'll take some time off work so I can stay home with Ganbri. I'm sure getting hit by a car is a good enough excuse for them."

Harry smiled and the Doctor managed smile in return.

"I'm going to go call Shaun then—see if he can come pick us up."

"Okay."

"Let's just have a quiet evening, okay?"

Harry nodded in agreement. "Tea and telly."

The Doctor looked and Wilfred and smiled. "You too, Grandfather," he said with a smile before he left.

Wilfred stayed at their home that night. They all settled on the couch with tea and blankets and watched an old black-and-white western. He slept in the big rocking chair in the nursery, even though there was a guest bedroom next door, so that he could take care of Ganbri if he woke. He thought it might be best if Harry and the Doctor could go the night without being disturbed.

In the morning, Harry helped the Doctor pack a bag, reminding him of the basic essentials that he tended to forget. In the afternoon, the escort arrived with four separate cars. Neighbours were peering curiously from windows or from their front doors as they saw him off, exchanging hugs and wishes of luck.

"I'll be home soon," the Doctor promised.

As the vehicles vanished down the street and the neighbours went back to their own business, Harry's brows moved together. "It was only a matter of time," he said quietly. "He'll find reasons to take the next few, and then he won't need any reasons at all. He'll be doing missions for them all the time soon."

"He loves the life you have together," was all Wilfred could think to say.

"He does," Harry agreed easily. "But he needs to move. He needs adventure. And that's okay. I had just hoped that Ganbri might be a little older."

Wilfred smiled, looking at the little boy in Harry's arms. One day he'd grow up and face monsters and madness and war. It was years down the road, and yet much closer than they would ever like to admit. Wilfred worried about the things that little boy would see. He worried about what things would be like when Ganbri returned from that battle. He worried that he wouldn't be there anymore when the Doctor and Harry had to face the hardest days of their lives as parents.

"They're never as old as you want them to be."


	5. 2014 - Lantern Light

**2014**

"You know why he wants to be a pumpkin, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

He smirked at his husband, watching in amusement as the Doctor stitched away. Every year since Ganbri was born, the Doctor had insisted on making his Halloween costume himself, but he always left it until the last minute. That had been fine for the last two years as they had always been something simple—Ganbri's first Halloween saw him dressed as a monkey (which was really nothing more than a slightly altered brown onesie), and he was one of the Ghostbusters for his second. But this year, Ganbri was approaching four years old, and he had his own ideas.

A pumpkin he wanted, so a pumpkin he would be. The costume had proven to be a bit more work than a simple clothing alteration but the Doctor had still left all his materials sitting untouched until the night of October 30th. The moment Ganbri had gone to bed, the frantic work began and now the kitchen was littered with abandoned pieces of wire and scraps of orange cloth.

"I mean, besides the Jack thing."

"I _know_," the Doctor huffed irritably.

They had been discussing Halloween a month ago when Ganbri asked why people carved out pumpkins. Jack told him a slightly altered version of the tale, claiming that he was the Jack in the story and that it was the reason he could never die. Ganbri immediately asked if Jack would dress "like he used to dress" and go trick-or-treating with him if he wore a pumpkin costume.

Harry leaned against the table top, idly twisting a piece of wire in his hands. "And have you figured out how you're going to explain it to the neighbours?"

"Glow-in-the-dark body paint."

"That turns on and off?"

"Hopefully he'll just keep it going but I can always just say we re-applied it."

"What's this?" Harry asked, holding up a piece of orange cloth that had three large holes cut into it.

"The mask. Look," the Doctor snatched it from his hands and held it up to his own face, even though it was far too small to line up with his features. "I'm going to put some wire in it so that everything holds a proper shape, obviously."

"What does he need a mask for? He's a pumpkin."

"Because we carve faces into the pumpkins."

"But you're putting a face in the costume," he protested, pointing out the large jack-o-lantern face that had already been cut out and wired in the round pumpkin suit.

"Yes . . ."

"So why does he need the mask?"

"Because I'm making one!" the Doctor snapped, then tossed some strips of wire and the mask at him. "Are you going to keep asking questions or are you going to make yourself useful?"

Harry eyed the wire and the odd little mask and sighed. "I'm going to pour some wine," he said. "Red or white?"

"Either, I don't care. Whichever you want."

He chose to walk the long way around the table, so that he could walk behind the Doctor and slide his hands around his waist. "You should care," he said quietly, pulling the other body against him slightly. "Because, you see, white wine is the sort of thing you drink when you plan to have a pleasant conversation and go to bed, but red wine is meant to be romantic. So which one do you want?"

"I've got to finish this, Harry . . ."

"Yes. And eventually you'll be done."

"It's already late."

"Shall I open the white then?"

Harry rested his head against the Doctor's, burying his nose in the dark hair and grinning to himself. The Doctor's hesitation as he glanced at the clock meant that Harry had already won. The Doctor just had to admit it to himself first.

"Red," the Doctor said finally.

"Excellent," Harry said cheerfully, releasing him and quickly going in search of wine glasses.

"But you have to help me with this!" the Doctor added firmly.

"Of course, Lahrre."

Finishing the costume took longer than he'd thought but the Doctor had never needed as much sleep as Harry did. Even when they were kids, he would fall asleep amongst the trees of the woods or in the grass of the fields while his friend carried on playing and exploring without him. So, when they finally made their way to bed, Harry was told to lie back and rest before the Doctor vanished beneath the sheets, pecking kisses along Harry's body as he slithered downward.

The Doctor was already up and dressed by the time Harry woke up, standing in front of the mirror as he finished his morning routine. Harry groaned sleepily, making a show of stretching his arms over to the empty side of the bed in search of the missing body.

The Doctor simply raised his eyebrow and continued working on his tie. "You might want to cover yourself."

He could hear the footsteps too. No sooner had he pulled the sheet over himself than the bedroom door flung open and Ganbri burst into the room. He really ought to teach him to knock.

The boy howled and wailed in his best imitation of a ghost, flapping the white blanket he had slung over his shoulders enthusiastically. It wasn't until Ganbri had leapt up onto the bed and left a great white smear across Harry's arm that he realized his son had used toothpaste to attempt to paint his face white.

"I'll do it," the Doctor said with a sigh, lifting a kicking and laughing Ganbri off the bed. "Your meeting is in two hours. Don't forget, you're meeting us at Donna's afterwards."

The meeting was boring as hell, but successful. The university had learned very quickly that Harry was particularly skilled in the art of charm and a knack for getting people to do whatever he wanted. A little telepathic hypnotism never hurt either.

His project got the funding, his research for the next one got approved, and he convinced the board to hire his favourite intern as a paid employee. Garreth was a good, hard working kid but he had an extra helping of ruthlessness where the others didn't that meant he never failed. He would be sure to tell Garreth himself that he had been chosen as Harry's assistant, so that the boy would understand where his loyalty would best serve him.

He first noticed something odd when he stopped by his office to sort the paperwork from the meeting. He was sitting at his desk, sipping a cup of coffee to banish the last of his weariness, when he thought he saw something from the corner of his eye. Something dark and small, scurrying across the floor. He thought it must have been a mouse or a bug, but he couldn't smell anything, nor taste any unusual hormones in the air. He supposed he must have imagined it.

He somehow misplaced some of his papers, though he was sure he had it in his hands not moments ago. He spent some time searching for it, accidentally shutting his thumb in his desk drawer and then knocking his coffee cup over when he jumped up. It was then that he paused and gazed around the room suspiciously.

"What mischief is this?" he asked aloud.

The room was still and silent. He shook his head, cursing himself for a fool and reminding himself that he was prone to wild imaginings and hallucinations. He left the missing paperwork to be found another day, mopped up his spilled coffee, and headed off to join his family in their Halloween celebrations.

Wilfred was already on his third pumpkin by the time Harry arrived. The old man bragged shamelessly about his unmatched skill when it came to carving pumpkins and the Doctor decided to challenge him on it. It led to a race between the two, with Ganbri and Annie crying out cheers as the two men frantically scooped, cut, and carved. Wilfred won and he declared that the children should get to choose the Doctor's form of punishment. Jack arrived to the sight of the Doctor pushing his face into a bowl full of mushy pumpkin insides in search of a coin that had been hidden, with Annie enthusiastically helping some of the pumpkin guts find its way inside his ears.

"I usually prefer something a little warmer when I do that," Jack said with a smirk. "And preferably squirming."

Nearly a dozen newly carved pumpkins were set outside to wait for the dark and the family settled down to watch some film called Casper. Harry had never seen it before, nor did he really understand it. It baffled him that a film in which the lead character is a dead child that is bullied and lonely in his afterlife was meant to be funny or cute in any way. But the kids liked it, so he supposed that meant it was alright.

The movie ended and the children demanded scary stories. Stories were told of ghosts, lake monsters, vampires and the like. Ganbri finally turned to Harry and asked him to tell a story, but suddenly the only stories he could think of were ones where _he_ was the monster. He couldn't imagine that the story of how he came back from the dead, roasted some people alive, and then ate a couple of tramps was what they had in mind.

"Did I ever tell you that I met a _real_ werewolf?" the Doctor jumped in to rescue him.

They had just reached the part where the Doctor was trapped in a library with an enormous werewolf prowling around it when Harry saw something dark in the corner of his eye. Before he had a chance to look at what it may have been, the lights suddenly burst with a loud pop and left them sitting in darkness. The children squealed in fear that was only half genuine and Jack unleashed his best villainous laugh without missing a beat.

Shaun wandered off into the dark to switch the fuse back on. The various thumps and barely quieted curses told Harry that he stubbed his tow at least once and tripped over something else. When the lights came back on, it was discovered that someone had left the tap running in the kitchen, the water already filling the sink and spilling to the floor. Harry gave the house a quick search as the mess was cleaned up, but found no traces of anything unusual—no signs of something being in the house.

He supposed he _did_ imagine things sometimes and he knew how important it was not to obsess over those false realities.

Finally, it was the moment the children had been waiting for. With costumes on and decorated pails in their hands, they burst from the front door into the darkened night. The streets were crawling with ghouls and goblins of all shapes and sizes. Annabelle glittered and jingled as she walked in her fairy princess costume, while Ganbri finally began a slow release of the time energy he'd been holding in for a month so that he could glow like a proper jack-o-lantern. Jack had been true to his word and worn clothing from centuries past, complete with some makeup to make him look older and dirtier, to play the part of Stingy Jack.

Garbage bins fell over, car alarms went off, cats and foxes darted across the street with shrieks of terror. It certainly felt like Halloween, but it began to feel too much like it. There was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the weather, and the adults of the group began to exchange concerned glances. At one moment, when the street seemed abandoned except for their group, the Doctor slipped his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and waved it around for a moment but didn't seem to find anything of consequence.

"You guys are a bit paranoid," Shaun muttered with a shrug of his shoulders. "It's Halloween. It's supposed to be creepy."

"Sorry, Shaun, but you don't get to be as old as us without being a tad paranoid," the Doctor answered a bit sharply. Even if Harry couldn't feel it rolling off him in telepathic waves, it was easy to tell that the other Time Lord was feeling a little tense.

The children toddled along cluelessly. Annie grabbed at the edges of her frilly and sparkling skirts and swished them this way and that as she walked, holding her chin high and looking positively regal. Ganbri's costume wobbled back and forth as he walked, but he took delight in the way other children pointed at him, _ohh_-ing over the way he glowed in the dark night.

When one little girl dressed as a garden gnome rushed to him and excitedly blurted, "How did you _do_ that!?" Ganbri grinned wide and pointed at Annabelle.

"Fairy dust."

As they walked away, the little girl could be heard telling her mother that she had just seen a _real_ fairy. Annie held her chin a little higher after that.

But as children left and right enjoyed themselves, Harry began to notice that other parents were beginning to look concerned as well. A woman walked by in a huff, carrying a shoe with a broken heel in one hand. As she passed, the heel on her other shoe suddenly broke and she stumbled straight into Jack's arms.

The group carried on without him, leaving him to flirt as long as it took to get the woman's number. Within a couple of minutes, they came across a man sullenly pulling a tree branch out of his broken windshield, though the tree he was parked under was not so much as swaying in the wind.

Stubbed toes, bee stings, stalling engines—it was not hard to find an adult in distress. And yet every child walked down the street with a smile on their face.

Minutes later a bat had flown straight into Donna's hair. While she screamed and flailed, Shaun tried desperately to untangle it, and was rewarded by Donna's purse hitting him below the waist in her panic. No sooner was the bat free and they were back on their way did the Doctor trip over his own feet and tear the knee in his suit, knocking Harry over on his way down. Both Ganbri and Annie giggled at them, thinking that they were all playing up and trying to scare them, and carried on with their door-to-door quest for treats happily.

When Jack finally caught up, he looked from one adult to the next. "What the hell did I miss?"

Donna's hair was a mess and she was still a bit shaky. Shaun was still standing rather odd and bore a few scratches on his hands from the bat. The Doctor had scratches too, plus the torn suit, and Harry palms were scraped from his fall.

"Do you not notice that something strange is happening?" the Doctor asked him.

"No," Jack answered easily as he slipped a piece of paper into his pocket. "Well, I mean I'm taking Cheryl for a drink tomorrow instead of tonight, so I guess that's a bit odd. But, you know, with the kids and all . . ."

"I got attacked by a bat!" Donna barked. "I've probably got rabies or something!"

When the children returned from yet another doorstep with a few more pieces of candy, Ganbri grabbed hold of Harry's sleeve and tugged on it gently. He wouldn't say anything until Harry got to his knee so that Ganbri could whisper shyly in his ear, "I have to go pee."

There was a convenience shop nearby that would be open. Harry quickly excused them and took Ganbri's hand to lead him down the street, hurrying along as much as a three-year-old could manage. Ganbri didn't have accidents very often anymore, but when the kid said he had to pee, it meant _now_. The moment they were through the shop door, Ganbri bolted towards the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Alright, mate?" the teenaged girl behind the counter said.

Harry nodded and uttered a word of greeting.

"Had about twenty of them in here already," the girl said, nodding her head towards the bathroom. "So far, they've all made it."

"Lucky," Harry answered.

Though, when he began to look around the shop, he realized that maybe she wasn't so lucky. He spotted three broken nails and a fresh purple bruise surfacing on her elbow that could only have been an hour or so old. There was a wet floor sign near the slush puppie machine, out of order signs on the coffee machine and on the heater for baked goods. There were shards of glass in the rubbish bin behind the counter.

"Had any trouble tonight?" he asked.

"What, you mean pranksters? No, nothing like that," she sighed and gestured towards the broken coffee machine. "Plenty of clumsy people though. I swear, I've had to clean something up after every second customer in here. Hey, how'd you make your kid glow like that?"

"Glow-in-the-dark body paint," he recited, distractedly looking around the shop.

"Where'd you get it from? It's good."

"Sorry, I don't know. My husband got it."

"Oh. Right." She looked at him a bit oddly but quickly changed it to a smile. He chose not to look into it. It was only that irritating tingle creeping up his spine making him paranoid.

Ganbri came out a minute later, only to turn around and rush back in because he forgot to wash his hands.

"Great costume, little man," the girl said kindly when Ganbri emerged for the second time. "Happy Halloween!"

"Thank you!" Ganbri answered happily as he pulled his mask back down over his face.

They stepped back out into the chilly October night in much less of a rush than before. Harry could hear a car alarm beeping a couple of blocks away and a fog was beginning to roll in. None of it was helping that uncomfortable feeling crawling around under his skin.

"Daddy, it's scary," Ganbri said quietly.

"It is a bit," Harry agreed. "But that's just because it's Halloween. It's supposed to be a little scary."

"Oh," Ganbri squeezed his hand a little tighter and pointed across the street with his free hand. "Is that a ghost?"

Harry was about to answer with an automatic 'no', but the word caught in his throat when he looked up. There was a deathly white man walking towards them, but it was not a man in costume. Harry knew his face and he wasn't human. Nor was he alive.

"You're dead!" he shouted without thinking, quickly shoving Ganbri behind him. "You stay away from my son!"

He was a hallucination. That was all. Harry had been feeling a bit off all day. He was stressed—from that stupid meeting or something. His mind was playing tricks on him, that was all.

"You can't be here."

But the man continued to approach, tilting his head slightly to the side as though he were confused. He looked solid enough, except that he began to blur around the edges. His fingers and ears were translucent, and his hair swayed in an unnatural way, as though he were underwater.

He wasn't real. He couldn't be. Gallifrey was gone and the Time Lords with it. Dead, all of them. Dead.

He almost believed that right until the man got a little too close for comfort. Harry panicked and threw a punch as soon as that eerily white jaw was within reach. It felt like punching sand, the form of that face sifting away into nothingness and leaving him to swing through air.

Ganbri shouted in fright and Harry felt tiny fingernails dig into his leg. The image of the man in front of him had collapsed into nothing but wisps of fog and he didn't want to wait to see if it would reform. He hoisted Ganbri up with one arm and ran. He wasn't risking a fight as long as he had Ganbri with him.

But the fog rushed in front of him before he got more than a few strides and quickly formed up again. This time it was a friendlier face.

"Jinnar," Harry gasped, his feet nearly tripping over each other in their hurry to stop before he ran into the new form. "What is this?"

"Apologies," Jinnar answered with an oddly cheerful voice. "I did not mean to frighten you."

Jinnar died young—the tender age of seventy-three—but the man before Harry looked as Jinnar had when he was even more of a child. His jaw had not widened and strengthened yet, and only bore a light coating of stubble instead of the full beard he grew later in life. This was Jinnar as he had been when he stood, terrified, in their parents' home and watched the Master die for the first time.

"What are you?" Harry demanded loudly. "How are you doing that?"

"It is simple atomic manipulation. I am merely energy and your eyes cannot see me as I am. I wanted to create a form that was familiar to you."

"Yeah, well, you picked a bad one," Harry growled in response. Ganbri was crying a little bit from the fright, but he was a brave boy and was already quieting down. Harry shifted the little body in his arms to hold Ganbri against his chest, ignoring the way his pumpkin costume bent against the pressure, and put a hand protectively on the back of his head.

"I understand. Again, I apologize," the stranger replied, bowing his head politely. "Is this new form acceptable?"

Jinnar had always been a sweet boy. He died before he was able to fully comprehend the monster his older brother had become, and so he had died still loving him.

"Yeah," he answered, somewhat shakily. "What do you want?"

"I am afraid to say that I may not want anything from you. I am looking for an old friend and seem to have made a mistake. I was under the impression that this planet was frequented by only one Time Lord."

"You're looking for the Doctor?"

"Do you know him?" the form asked eagerly. Harry didn't like _how_ eagerly.

"He's mine," he answered, clutching Ganbri a little closer to him.

Jinnar's head tilted one way and then the other, observing him with wide and curious eyes. "He is your mate?" he asked, after a moment of thought.

"Yes."

"How lovely," the stranger smiled widely. "Then perhaps he has told you of me. As I said, we are old friends. My name is Samhain."

"Is that a f—" Harry stopped himself, remembering that Ganbri was listening. "Is that some kind of joke?"

"No. Why? Is it funny in some way?"

"It's Halloween."

"Yes, I am told that is what they call this day now," the stranger answered with a knowing nod. "Once, they called it the Festival of Samhain. After me, you know. This is the day that my costumers and I come to visit."

Harry raised an eyebrow and wondered if he should even ask. "Your customers?"

"Yes. My people are fond of learning and experiencing other worlds. You may not know this, but there is a rift in the fabric of time and space not far from here, as there are in many places on your planet. This one is very small but on this night, it tends to open a little wider and allows us to travel through it. I lead groups of my people through to explore," Samhain smiled widely and rubbed his hands together in excitement as he spoke.

"You're a tour guide . . ."

"Oh, yes. And it never fails to amaze me how welcoming this planet is! The humans here have welcomed us into their homes and treated us as family. They leave gifts and other treats for my customers to collect and take home with them. It has proved to be a very prosperous business, thanks to the co-operation of the people of Earth."

"They thought you were ghosts," Harry interrupted bluntly. "They think you _are_ their family."

"Yes, the Doctor also made such a claim," Samhain answered, tilting his head again. "Though I have explained to the humans that we are merely visiting from another world and that we must return before dawn. They seem to understand and always welcomed us back the next year."

"Yeah, but—" Harry stopped, sighed, and gave it up. The Doctor would have explained it to him already and the innocent curiosity in those eyes clearly stated that he simply didn't understand it. "Listen, there seems to have been a lot of odd things happening tonight—unpleasant things."

"Yes," Samhain answered quickly, a furrow appearing on his pale brow. "That is why I was looking for the Doctor. Unfortunately, I have no control over the rift. The door opens and I step through, but I cannot close it behind me. I believe a group of kreggas came through behind us—mischief makers and pests. I wanted to ask the Doctor for his assistance in herding them back before they cause too much trouble. It's bad for business, you see."

"This is ridiculous," Harry grumbled with a shake of his head. "Alright, come on then. I'll take you to him."

Samhain followed behind him eagerly. He chatted about tours in years long past and how the way Earth's people greeted them had changed over the years. They no longer held formal dinners as they once did, when each household would save room at their table for one of Samhain's customers, but instead left their homes open to groups.

"They hold such lovely parties," Samhain said merrily. "The music of this age is so interesting. Though, I must say, I do miss the dinner parties because you got to see many more humans. It seems the parties they hold now are primarily for us, and so there are few humans there. It is still greatly appreciated though!"

Harry had no idea what the hell the creature was talking about. If it wanted a party with lots of humans on Halloween night, there were plenty to be found as long as you followed the noise. He didn't care either way, nor was he bothered to offer advice. This thing clearly didn't understand how humans worked if it thought that Halloween was a celebration of inter-planetary friendship.

Ganbri had grown quiet now. He watched the spirit-like being with silent curiosity and kept his fingers curled firmly in his father's shirt—listening so very carefully. Harry wondered if Ganbri was at all aware that the ghostly face was that of his own uncle. Probably not. Probably best not to mention it either.

The only uncles Ganbri needed to think he had were Shaun and Jack.

"I heard you mention you had a son," Samhain piped up as they made their way back towards the group. "If you are the Doctor's mate, does that mean it would be the Doctor's son as well?"

"Yes . . ." Harry answered warily.

"How wonderful," the ghostly figure smiled. "I should like to meet him."

Harry continued walking with the creature in a stunned silence for a moment before he was able to form words. "Do you not _see_ the child I have had with me this entire time?"

Samhain's head tilted curiously to the side again. Harry were certain that if he had taken the shape of a dog, right now his ears would be perking up and his tail wagging slowly with uncertainty.

"Was there a child?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"You are unbe—_look_," Harry said irritably, holding Ganbri forward a bit and pulling the mask from his face. "How can you not see him? He's glowing and everything."

"Oh!" Samhain said in what sounded like genuine surprise. "What a clever trick, disappearing like that!" he leaned a little closer to get a better look, and Harry felt his son cling to him a little tighter. "I like your father very much," the creature said to the boy merrily. "Not this one, the other one. Though this one's nice too."

The figure of mist carried on walking, smiling as though he were going for the most pleasant stroll of his life. Harry decided that it might be best to just not say anything more.

When they turned the corner of the street where the others were waiting, it was clear that they had missed something. Annabelle was crying, though appeared unhurt, while Shaun stood with his head tipped back with a tissue to his nose. Before they had a chance to approach or say anything, Donna looked up and saw them.

"Oh, now what the hell is that?" she said loudly, pointing at them.

The Doctor's head whipped around. "Sam!"

"Doctor!" Samhain answered happily. His misty figure gave up on trying to create moving legs and, instead, they just blurred into nothing as the top half of the image floated forward happily. "I have just been acquainted with your mate and offspring. I'm happy for you, friend."

"Thanks," the Doctor glanced around at the others in the group and shrugged a bit awkwardly. "Everyone, this is Samhain. I'll explain later. Sam, this is everyone else. Now, what the hell is going on?"

"Kreggas," Sam answered plainly.

The Doctor waited a moment, then realized that there was no more information being offered. "Right. Okay. I need a bit more to go on than that."

"They are like me," Samhain added. "Energy, but they can create forms. Much smaller than us, yes, but tricksters. I don't think they will hurt anyone but they are an awful nuisance—terrible for business."

"I still have no idea what you guys are talking about," Jack said with a shake of his head. "I haven't had any trouble."

Samhain looked directly at Shaun and said in a sympathetic voice, "Forgive me. It does look like you _have_ though."

"I have," Shaun answered quickly, still dabbing at his bleeding nose. "He said that."

Samhain looked in the direction Shaun pointed but his eyes clearly showed that he saw nothing of note. He stared off into the distance even when Jack waved at him.

"Why can't you see people?" Harry blurted irritably. "Can you not see him moving?"

Samhain sighed. "Everything on your planet moves. Even your sky and your air moves. It is difficult for my eyes to understand. I'm sorry, but I see no one."

"It's because he's in costume," the Doctor muttered, grabbing Ganbri's mask from Harry's hand and putting it back over his son's face. "Sam's people are just barely able to perceive humans as being different from their surroundings. If we disguise ourselves, especially if we cover our face, they can't really see us. It's like trying to find stick bugs. We just visually don't make sense to them."

"That's why the kids have been untouched," Harry said, nodding with understanding. The kids were all in costume. The comment about the parties earlier suddenly made much more sense.

"The beings from Sam's world understand energy better than matter. Once, people used to guide their way by building fires or lighting lanterns," the Doctor explained quickly. "Sam and I met because he was attracted to the energy that the TARDIS gave off."

The Doctor met his eyes, but didn't say the rest. Raw time energy was much stronger than fire or light or the residue of a TARDIS flight. Ganbri could be the brightest beacon they'd ever see.

Harry quickly made sure that his mask was secured properly.

"Do kreggas work the same way?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes," Samhain answered simply, then tilted his head to one side. "Is that helpful?"

"It means we have a sure way to gather them."

When the Doctor looked at him again, Harry's eyes widened. "No, we don't!" he protested quickly, clutching Ganbri protectively. "You can light a bloody bonfire or something! Use your screwdriver—maybe it won't be so useless for once!"

"With every minute, these things are spreading out and getting further from the rift. We can go back to the TARDIS and make an energy beacon of some sort, but the rift will close before dawn. The longer we take, the less chance we have that the kreggas will have time to make it back."

"Wait, what's he mean?" Donna asked, glancing nervously between the Time Lords.

"He wants to use the kid as gremlin bait," Jack offered.

"Not quite, but thanks, Jack," the Doctor said in aggravation. "You heard Sam; they don't hurt people."

"Sorry, mate, but my bloody nose would suggest otherwise," Shaun argued.

Samhain smiled widely at Shaun. "Oh, are you the Doctor's mate too?"

Shaun frowned at him. "Yeah. Why?"

"Not that kind of mate, Sam," the Doctor muttered quietly, then raised his hands and his voice. "Alright, now listen! We have a bunch of invisible little mischief demons loose on the streets—"

"And you think the appropriate response is to sic them on my son?"

The Doctor glared at him and took a deep breath before continuing. "If he releases it faster, Ganbri's time energy will attract the kreggas better than anything else we can scrape together on such short notice. If we take Ganbri to the rift and keep his mask on, they won't even be able to see him."

"Yeah, but they're still heading straight for him," Donna protested louder than anyone else. "They can still find him."

"But they won't recognize him as a living thing, so they won't bother him. They'll congregate and bask, that's all."

"And then what?" Jack asked.

"I have some colleagues with me," Samhain answered, staring in Jack's general direction with unseeing eyes. "We can round them up easily and take them through the rift once they are gathered. This is a good plan. This will work."

"Still not using my son as a monster magnet," Harry answered firmly. "You brought them here, tour guide, you catch them on your own."

"All he needs to do, Lahrre, is unleash his energy. That's _it_. We'll do every—"

"_No._"

There was a long moment of silence. Harry wasn't sure what the others did, probably just looked awkwardly at each other he supposed. His eyes were trained on the Doctor, keeping a firm gaze to make it clear that he would not move on this.

His carelessness as a father had cost him three children and he would not make that mistake again. Not this one. Not this one that he carried and grew beneath his own skin. Not this one whose hearts had beat with his own, whose first dreams he had shared, whose first blood had come from Harry's own veins. He would not let his stupid and selfish decisions leave him childless again.

"I can catch monsters," Ganbri's quiet voice spoke. "I'm brave."

The Doctor stepped forward and Harry stepped back, giving him a warning glance. He wasn't sure what the other Time Lord had intended to say or do, but while the Doctor was now his husband, they had once been enemies. He knew how manipulative the old devil could be.

"I know you're brave," Harry answered his son quietly. "But you're still very little."

"I can be big."

"You don't have to be big yet. You can be big when you're older."

"But Toktok," Ganbri leaned in very close to Harry's ear and whispered as quietly as he could manage. "Annie wants to be a fairy princess."

Harry glanced down at his son in confusion, not sure what kind of nonsense was going on in that three-year-old mind. But Time Lords are smart and he remembered being three, himself. He remembered understanding and he remembered being clever. Most of all he remembered that he already knew how to plan and manipulate.

It wasn't until he saw the way Ganbri smiled as his skin suddenly turned from a dull glow to the bright shine of a star and took away any power of opinion his Tokrah might have had, that he realized what the boy had been thinking.

Princesses loved heroes.


	6. 2015 - Time for Grown-Ups

**2015**

It had been a long week. The Doctor had just come back from a trip to Spain to deal with the crashed Bivvien ship and UNIT had thought it a good idea to assign Cassie on the job with him.

_Cassie_. If he had known they were going to send Cassie with him, he would have slipped away and done things his own way, but they had been clever and made sure that no one told him who his partner would be until he had already shown up at headquarters and agreed to go. Four bloody days with _Cassie_ constantly at his side, saluting everything in sight and constantly badgering him about protocols. If the government told that woman to sit in a vat of acid until she was relieved of duty, she would stay there until there was nothing left but the acid and a few foul smelling bubbles.

Communications with the Bivviens didn't go well either as they seemed to be under the impression that Spain's ground had damaged their ship and therefore they had a right to seize that ground as compensation. For some reason they didn't understand why that was considered to be a threat of hostile invasion and the humans involved didn't understand why the Bivviens didn't understand. It had been an awful lot of too many people talking and not enough people thinking. His head ached at just the memory of it.

But he had something good to look forward to now.

UNIT insisted that he travel with them in their ground vehicles whenever he did a job for them and so he sat impatiently in the back seat of a bullet proof car with blacked out windows as it drove at a painfully slow speed. He had hated being driven in UNIT's cars at first because it drew so much attention from the neighbours but, after nearly two years, they were all used to it. UNIT vehicles simply meant that Doctor John Noble was going on a business trip and no one thought much of it anymore.

"You must be excited to get home, sir," Cassie said cheerfully, gesturing towards his left knee, bouncing with impatience.

He nodded noncommittally. Cassie usually tried to make small talk with him when they drove anywhere. Anything longer than half an hour of travel left him completely exasperated because she simply never gave up. Harry said that he thought Cassie just wanted to be friends. The Doctor suspected he was right. Cassie was a good person at heart really; she was just so damned annoying.

"How's your little one doing?" she asked next. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Not so little anymore," the Doctor answered, feeling a slight tug of a smile at the corner of his lips. "He's growing like a weed. I swear I've bought him six pairs of shoes this year already because he keeps outgrowing them."

"Yeah, they tend to do that."

Did Cassie have children? He'd never asked. Was she even married? She didn't have a wedding ring on. Though he supposed not everyone wore them or people didn't bother to even get married in this day and age. After all, he and Harry weren't married yet when Ganbri was conceived.

"I've got two girls," Cassie added, answering his unasked questions as though she had known he was thinking of them. "Nine and eleven. Their dad takes them full time. I get them on the weekends. Well, when we're not on the job, that is."

He didn't want to encourage the chatter but the thought of what she just told him made him sad. "That must be hard," he said quietly. He missed Ganbri terribly and he'd only been gone for four days. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to go without him for a week at a time on a regular basis.

"It is," Cassie answered with a slightly softer voice, though she kept her smile all the same.

The car turned a corner and familiar houses began to drift past the windows. His hearts sped up a little as they travelled down his street towards his little white house. _Home_.

His mind instinctively reached out, looking for the connection that it was so used to now that it almost hurt to be away from it. He quickly found Harry reaching back to him. They linked together and the Doctor f0elt warm and whole again. He relaxed in his seat a little, a gentle smile spreading across his face. He couldn't yet see the house but he knew that Harry would be calling Ganbri downstairs because Banni was coming home.

"Don't think I see anyone quite so happy to get home from a mission as you, sir. Most people at UNIT live for the job," Cassie started up again.

He didn't feel as annoyed this time, only because he was enjoying the sensation of another presence in his mind for the first time in four days. "Well, I didn't appreciate what it meant to have a home or a family until I lost them all. Now I understand how important it is."

"I'd heard about that," she answered. "They say that your whole planet is gone."

She was ruining his happiness of that moment. He didn't like talking to Cassie for exactly this reason. Her idea of getting to know each other was to poke at old wounds he'd rather have left alone. If she wasn't doing that, she was blathering on about patriotic duty or some other nonsense. He didn't want to think about the things he'd lost. He wanted to think about what he had.

Thankfully she seemed to understand the hardened expression on his face and kept quiet. Harry felt the change in him and he felt a little extra warmth flow through him, giving him an image of Ganbri hurriedly putting his shoes on.

As the car pulled up to the house, he saw Harry standing in the open doorway with Ganbri practically vibrating with excitement at his side. The second the car had stopped, the Doctor flew open his car door.

"Hello!" he shouted happily, quickly getting to his knee on the sidewalk and opening his arms.

Ganbri burst forward from the door, rushing across the small patch of grass between them and jumping into his father's arms. "Hi, Banni!"

He squeezed tight making a great deal of making it seem like he had to put a lot of effort into picking the four-year-old off the ground. "Oh, you're heavy!" he exclaimed. "Did you grow while I was away?"

"Yeah!" Ganbri answered gleefully. "Tokrah says I'll be as tall as you one day."

"Of course you will." He smiled when he said it but he did feel a little sting in his hearts. He actually knew for a fact that Ganbri would be as tall as him one day, but it would not be a happy day. The slightest thought of it made him remember the stench of blood and a terrible snarling in his head but he quickly tried to banish it before anyone picked up on it. That day was years away. Best not to think about it now.

"As always, sir," Cassie's said behind him, catching his attention. "It has been a pleasure and the people of Earth thank you for your service."

He turned to see that she had gotten out of the car to salute him. "Oh, don't do that," he grimaced. Ganbri raised his tiny hand against his forehead to salute back at Cassie and the Doctor hurriedly grabbed at it with his free hand to pull it back down. "You especially!"

Cassie smiled. "Have a good night, Doctor," she said as she turned to get back in the car.

"Banni," Ganbri began as the Doctor carried him back towards the house. "When you take your shoes off, can I show you what I made? After you sit down."

"Of course you can," he answered happily.

"It doesn't count if you _ask_ before he takes his shoes off either," Harry said sternly, crossing his arms. Harry had been trying for a couple of weeks now to teach Ganbri to wait until his parents had had a moment to relax after coming home before bombarding them with requests and stories. The Doctor didn't mind Ganbri's eagerness but Harry was usually in need of a little quiet when he came home.

"You can go get it now but wait to ask next time, okay?" the Doctor said kindly as he put the child down.

"Okay," Ganbri answered happily, hurriedly kicking his shoes off.

"Where do shoes go?" Harry asked before Ganbri could run off. The boy quickly picked up the discarded shoes to return them to the closet. "Good boy. Now you can go."

Ganbri grinned and hurried off. The second their son was around the corner, Harry quickly placed a hand on either side of the Doctor's face and pulled him in for a kiss. It was a bit more forceful than expected and the Doctor lost his balance slightly, bumping into the wall beside him. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the taste of the narin and the wonderful thoughts washing over him.

"You're supposed to wait until I've at least got my shoes off," he teased when Harry pulled away too soon.

"Yeah, but I'm a grown-up and I get to do whatever I want," Harry answered cheekily before delivering a sharp slap to the Doctor's back side. "And don't you talk back to me."

"Yes, Master." He couldn't help grinning as he said it. Harry often got a bit feisty after he'd been away on a mission and it always led to a fun night. Suddenly, as much as he'd missed his son, he was eagerly looking forward to Ganbri's bed time.

He pulled his shoes off and made his way over to the kitchen in search of a quick snack. As he was poking about the cupboards he noticed Ganbri through the kitchen doorway, waiting patiently as he sat at the foot of the stairs. He wanted to tell him that he could just come in and show him whatever he'd made but he had to resist and follow Harry's rules.

The bananas looked like they wouldn't last much longer anyway so he just grabbed one of those and took it with him to the sitting room. He paused in front of the sofa, grinning evilly at Ganbri as he pretended he was going to sit down and then suddenly stood up straight again. It earned him a delighted giggle. He did it a couple more times, just to make his boy laugh, before he finally sat down.

Without a second's hesitation, Ganbri sprang to his feet and rushed over, clutching his prized project. He climbed up onto the Doctor's lap and chatted happily about how his Auntie Donna spent an afternoon with him making clay figurines. He'd created a few alien monsters of his own, which Donna then baked and helped him paint.

The Doctor listened politely and added sounds of interest at all the right moments while he ate his banana. Ganbri had given each of his monsters their own names, as well as species names, and some of them even had proper back stories. When he began talking about why one species had evolved wings while another evolved gills, he knew he'd been spending more than enough time in the Bio Lab with his Tokrah.

Harry kept teasing him all day. Whenever Ganbri left the room to find a different toy or to watch something on the TV, the Doctor would find himself pulled into a long kiss or pinned against a wall or else vigorously touched in some way. He started receiving images, delivered straight to his mind from Harry, of all the very grown-up things he was either remembering or planning to do. More than once he found himself making excuses to Ganbri for not following him somewhere just so that he could stay standing behind a kitchen counter or sitting with a pillow or a book on his lap. Whenever he saw the knowing smirk on Harry's face, it only made the situation worse.

When he climbed into bed with Ganbri to read him a bed time story, he swore he felt Harry's hand sliding up his leg. As he turned the pages of the book, he felt ghostly lips kissing the back of his neck. He shivered and Ganbri noticed, the blessed boy pulling the blankets up a little higher to keep his Banni warm. His mind drifted further and further away, towards the coaxing thoughts that promised such exquisite sensations, while he desperately tried to make his mouth cooperate and read the words before him.

Finally, he reached the last page of the book. He was reading the last paragraph and allowing himself to feel a bit excited about what might come next when he felt something that he knew couldn't possibly be there pushing against his back side. He let out a startled gasp which he quickly tried to cover as a coughing fit.

Harry had done that on purpose. He was hard beneath the blanket now and there was no possible way to stand up without revealing himself and forcing an extremely awkward conversation with his son. It was Harry's way of making it impossible for him to leave yet, forcing him to stay put and wait in anticipation. He urged Ganbri to chat with him about Grandfather and the playground and the newest things he had been learning—anything to distract his mind from its current desires.

After a few minutes, he felt it was safe to leave. He kissed Ganbri on the forehead and said goodnight. Then he fled the room quickly before Harry had a chance to sabotage him again. He hurried to his own bedroom, half hoping Harry to be waiting for him and half knowing that he wouldn't be. The other Time Lord was in the shower, of course, with the door locked so that the Doctor knew very clearly that he was not permitted to join him.

Harry wanted to play a game tonight, that much was clear. He had been bossy and made sure the Doctor understood perfectly that he was not in control of his own pleasures tonight. That was fine. Once in a while, Harry got in these moods, when the old Master in him wanted to come out to play. Sometimes the Doctor got in those moods too. Either way, whoever was playing what role, it had yet to disappoint.

He chewed on his thumb restlessly, looking about the room to see if there was anything left out for him. Sometimes, there was something he was supposed to do in order to present himself for Harry and it was up to him to work out what it might be.

All he found was a blindfold sitting on the night stand. He sat down on the edge of the bed and quickly removed his shoes and socks, because there was simply no way of doing that with Harry in the room that looked attractive, and double-checked that his feet weren't haunted with some horrendous smell or another. He removed his belt and suit jacket as well, just because they could be tricky to get off in the heat of the moment. He left the rest on because he knew that Harry enjoyed undressing him, choosing just to undo the buttons on his shirt sleeves. He didn't even think of removing his tie.

He hurried off to the other bathroom in the house to make sure there was nothing unexpected to be found at an inconvenient moment and fix up his hair a bit. He reminded himself to put away any of the clothing he had discarded and tucked his screwdriver safely away. Leaving a mess would surely count as breaking a rule in Harry's game. When he was certain that he hadn't left anything out, he leapt onto the bed and settled down, snatching the blind fold from the table and eagerly putting it on.

He sat quietly for a minute. Waiting. Harry would surely come out of the shower as soon as he realized that the Doctor was ready for him. He was just beginning to think that he must have missed something when he felt the warmth of Harry's mind touching his own again. Harry was projecting images to him, allowing him to see whatever Harry could see.

For some reason, watching through Harry's eyes was somehow more exciting than if he was simply in the room with him. He watched with bated breath as the water cascaded down Harry's naked skin, almost feeling the wet trickles through their connected minds. After all these years, Harry still tried to blur the image of the scar on his chest but the Doctor was fond of that scar and, after some silent pleading, Harry allowed him to see it properly. He felt a small flurry of butterflies in his stomach when Harry's eyes turned downward and allowed the Doctor to see the hardened length that was waiting for him.

He squirmed a little uncomfortably on the bed, his trousers feeling just a little too tight. He wanted to get up and dig his sonic screwdriver back out, knowing that it could unlock the bathroom door in a split second. But he didn't. He waited patiently like he was supposed to. And he was rewarded.

He watched as Harry brought his own hand forward and took hold of himself, slowly stroking the length of his shaft. The Doctor felt that he was handling it just fine until he heard Harry sigh in his ear and suddenly it wasn't so easy to sit still anymore. His hand hurriedly slid down his front, eagerly searching for something to touch that would give him the pleasure he so desperately craved. He had barely grazed his hand over himself before the images Harry was giving him suddenly went black.

His hand shot away from himself again quickly. "Sorry," he blurted out, holding both his hands up in the air now as though he were surrendering. A torturously long moment passed and Harry didn't return any of his privileges. He was just getting ready to sulk and let out a good whine when he realized what he had forgotten.

"I'm sorry, Master," he said out loud and clearly, making sure that the words were transmitted telepathically as well. The images instantly returned and the Doctor felt terribly pleased with himself.

Harry was good at this game. He let his eyes drift away occasionally so that the Doctor didn't get to watch for too long at a time. All he wanted whenever that happened was to be able to see again but the yearning, as frustrated as part of him may have been, only made it better. He could hear Harry's hearts beating in his ears now, still calm and controlled but ever so slightly sped up.

Minutes passed and the Doctor loved every second of it, but his body was growing restless again. He wiggled and squirmed on the bed, hoping that he might be able to get some friction against his ever-tightening trousers or perhaps between his shevra and the sheets. What little that did achieve proved to be more teasing than satisfying.

He could hear Harry sighing again, a bit louder now that his hand had gripped himself a little more firmly. God, how could that man stand to hold back for so long? The Doctor could hear desperate little sighs and groans escaping his own mouth but he did nothing to quiet them. His hands grasped at the sheets just to keep them for reaching downward again, toes curling, legs twisting this way and that to try to create some relief through the movement against fabric.

Whether Harry had meant to share it or not, the Doctor didn't know, but he felt the movement of his muscles. He felt the way Harry's mouth pulled into a smirk and he quickly realized why Harry was amused. All this fuss and impatience and he had only needed to say one simple thing.

"Master," he gasped, finding himself surprisingly short of breath. "Please."

The images suddenly vanished and were replaced with the feeling of hot breath against his ear. "Good," Harry whispered.

He let out an involuntary groan when Harry's teeth nipped at his ear lobe before his mouth travelled down to his neck. The Doctor felt droplets of water falling from Harry's hair onto his skin so it couldn't have been long since he snuck out of the shower and into the bedroom. Still, he wondered how long the images he was being fed had been imagined.

Lips and teeth worked at his flesh, travelling down to his throat where his Master bit down. The teeth sunk in hard enough to make him cry out, but held back just enough that the Doctor didn't ask him to stop. He tried putting his hands against Harry's shoulders and gently pushing as a quick test and the teeth sunk in a little deeper.

"Okay, okay!" he blurted in slight panic, releasing Harry's shoulders quickly.

The teeth relaxed their grasp a little and the Doctor could feel Harry's lips moving against his skin, pulling back into a wicked grin. He felt the deep chuckle vibrate against his throat more than he heard it and it made him shiver.

With his teeth still firmly in place, Harry's hands began to slither over the Doctor's body—brushing against the swell his trousers teasingly, sliding up his abdomen, caressing his chest, and finally curving around his shoulders, following along his arms. Fingers curled around his wrists, grasping them tightly, guiding his hands up to be pinned above his head. With those teeth still holding him hostage, the Doctor did little to resist.

Soon, his Master had both his wrists held beneath one of his hands and the other quickly went to work. Harry's fingers popped open the buttons on his shirt expertly and, when the Doctor arched his back slightly to encourage the material to fall away from his chest, Harry rewarded him by relaxing his teeth a little more. As he expected, Harry left his tie just where it was, using his fingers to wiggle the collar out from underneath it instead.

Harry paused a moment and the Doctor knew immediately that it was just to test his obedience. He didn't move. He didn't squirm. He didn't do anything but let a small, desperate moan escape him. And he was rewarded.

Harry's teeth released his throat and he sighed a little in relief. He felt the other Time Lord shifting his weight as his leg reached over, then some of the weight of Harry's body as he straddled the Doctor's abdomen. For just a brief moment, Harry let him see through his eyes again. Instead of the blackness behind the blindfold, he was looking down at himself—squirming a little, wrists pinned, mouth open and panting, an angry set of red marks of his throat. Harry's eyes glanced downward and the Doctor saw the length of him laid out on his body, resting on the Doctor's chest and pumped so full of eager blood that he had no idea how Harry could stand to just sit there and _look_.

The image faded just as he saw Harry's free hand reaching for his tie. "I like the way you leave your mouth open for me," Harry said quietly, pausing for a moment to kiss him. He was careful not to let their tongues meet too much, denying the Doctor the taste of his narin and the access to his mind. "It must mean you want me to put something in there."

Really, he wanted Harry to put it somewhere _else_ but he knew that if he played the game properly, he would be rewarded. "Yes," he panted.

He could feel the smirk on Harry's lips when he planted another kiss on his mouth before he began to shift. Harry's hand gripped his tie firmly and pulled just enough to tighten it a little. The Doctor responded to the prompt quickly, lifting his head up from the pillow and turning his face at a more downward angle. When Harry's hips lifted off of him and he felt something warm and solid touch his lips he readily opened his mouth.

Harry let him watch that for a while too. He was able to look down and see himself as Harry held his tie like a rein, riding him. Harry released his wrists so that he could sit up straight on the Doctor's chest, thrusting carefully into the Doctor's mouth and now using his free hand to grab a fist full of his hair.

Harry didn't utter a word, but the Doctor knew his Master well. He brought his hands down and placed one on either side of Harry's hips instead, gently encouraging them with their rhythmic motion, his tongue eagerly trying all the tricks he knew. He was hoping that if he showed enough enthusiasm for this part, he would be rewarded.

He heard a quiet groan escape his husband and the hand on Harry's hip felt an uncontrolled twitch. As expected, Harry quickly pulled out of his mouth in order to maintain his control.

"Oh, good," Harry said a little breathlessly, his hand releasing the Doctor's hair so that he could slide his thumb along his lips. "Oh, you are good, Doctor."

He felt Harry's hips twisting next and knew that he was turning to look at the Doctor's lower half. The excitement in him suddenly shot up when Harry's hand landed lightly on his stomach and began to slide downwards. He paused with the very tips of his fingers slipping beneath his trousers.

"Please," The Doctor moaned impatiently, trying to raise his hips and make some sort of contact.

Harry suddenly tugged on his tie and it tightened around his throat a little more.

The Doctor immediately forced himself to relax his hips against the mattress again. "Please, Master," he corrected himself.

"Good," Harry said, though his voice had a hint of a growl to it now.

Harry's fingers worked quickly to get the button and zipper undone on his trousers while the Doctor mentally congratulated himself for removing his belt ahead of time. He moaned appreciatively when Harry's fingers finally closed around him, though he still had to fight the urge to thrust into the new contact.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor answered quickly, squirming as Harry's grip around him tightened and made it feel that much better.

"What do you say to your Master when he gives you something you want?"

"Th-thank you."

"Good. Now take those off."

He felt a gentle pull at his tie and quickly parted his lips again. Harry made a quiet hum of approval as the Doctor enthusiastically took him in his mouth, working his lips and his tongue as he raised his hips off the mattress and used his hands to push his trousers down as quickly as he could. It didn't take long before he was finally kicking away the offending material and brought his hands to Harry's hips again, gripping them tightly as they moved.

A minute later, Harry suddenly pulled out with a loud gasp. He was slipping in his control again and the Doctor quivered with excitement, knowing that Harry would not be able to hold back for much longer. Harry bent down and kissed him feverishly, letting his tongue explore freely this time and giving the Doctor a taste of his narin. He felt Harry's knees moving and adjusting, sliding him down the Doctor's body and settling in just the right place. All he had to do now was lower himself . . .

He felt Harry's hips moving beneath his hands, slowly lowering him, and the Doctor gently pushed to guide him. Harry suddenly stopped, resisting the guidance, but the Doctor had grown impatient. Though he knew he would be punished, he pushed hard against Harry's hips and raised his own. For one torturously brief second, he felt his aching tip just slide between Harry's cheeks when the tie suddenly snapped tight around his neck and Harry slapped his hand sharply.

"What do you think you're doing?" his Master hissed.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor answered desperately.

"You would defy me?"

"No," he said quickly, releasing Harry's hips and laying his hands on the mattress near his head in a fast act of submission. "I obey." He had been so close. _So_ close.

His Master did not even lean over him to growl his displeasure. He raised his leg again and dismounted, leaving the Doctor's body cold and cruelly abandoned. The only physical connection between them now was the way Harry gripped the tie so firmly, keeping it tight around the Doctor's throat.

"I am disappointed, Doctor," his Master said quietly. "You were doing so well."

He couldn't even think of what to say, so he just squirmed uncomfortably and made a sound so pathetic that it would embarrass him to even think about it at any other time.

"I _was_ going to take you inside me, but clearly you cannot be trusted with such privileges."

"I'll be good," the Doctor promised, skin crying out to be touched anywhere. "Please, Master, I'm sorry. I'll behave."

"That you will," his Master promised in return. "Apparently, I need to remind you of your place."

"Yes."

He felt the tie being pulled at, silently ordering him to sit up. "Take off your shirt."

He shrugged the material from his shoulders and tossed it away. Then, with a quick tug and a swift movement, the tie was pulled roughly from his neck. Harry put his hand on the Doctor's throat instead, holding it firmly as he pushed him back to lie down again. "Hold out your hands."

He thrust them out quickly and held still as Harry used the tie to bind his wrists together. He tied them tightly and without his usual gentleness before shoving the bound wrists against the mattress above his head again.

"Turn over."

It was a little tricky to do with his hands above his head, but he didn't dare lower them in order to use his elbows. Instead, he shifted and wriggled, rather awkwardly, until he had managed to turn properly onto his stomach. He didn't need to be told to put his weight on his knees so that his back end was raised high and made easily accessible.

He had expected it but, being unable to see it coming, he still let out a startled cry when a hand delivered a sharp slap to his newly presented side.

"What do you have to say to your Master?"

"I'm sorry!" the Doctor cried in return.

Another slap. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry, Master," he corrected.

"Spread your legs."

He obeyed, and quickly, shifting and moving his knees further apart from each other. He felt the mattress dipping and rising as his Master moved around him, positioning himself directly behind him. A hand landed lightly on his back and he carefully followed its guidance, lowering himself a few inches so that he was in just the right position. Then the hand slid upward to find his shevra, touching it gently for just a moment before a fingernail dug sharply into the tender flesh. The Doctor let out a cry that let his Master know it was too much and, though the fingernail stayed where it was, the pressure behind it was eased to a more bearable level. Harry's other hand reached between his legs and stroked him to make up for the unwanted pain.

"I think you learn well," his Master whispered behind him. "With the correct amount of discipline."

"Yes."

The hand that stroked him was taken away and grasped his hip instead, but the Doctor knew what was coming next and so he didn't complain. The fingernail in his shevra eased away and instead there was just a fingertip, softly massaging away whatever mark it had left.

"Beg," his Master ordered.

"Please," he gasped as Harry smacked him again. "Please." Another smack. "Please." He knew Harry would keep delivering the sharp slaps until he begged correctly and so he didn't beg correctly until the stinging in his skin reached the limit of what he was comfortable with.

"Please, Master."

"Oh," Harry groaned quietly, sliding a hand around to the Doctor's front to touch him again. "I like it when you use my name." He felt Harry's tip brushing against his back side and his skin quivered to life with anticipation.

It was just as it began to push against him that there was a quiet knock at the door.

"Banni?"

"God damn it," the Doctor groaned.

"Ganbri, don't open the door!" Harry barked loudly, making no attempt to move or get them covered up.

"Okay," the tiny voice answered.

"Remember that talk we had?"

". . . Yeah."

"Remember what I told you?"

"Yeah."

"So where should you be?"

". . . In bed."

"That's right. Get going then."

"Okay, Tokrah."

Harry waited just long enough to hear the soft scuffle of feet before whispering a bit frantically, "Bite the pillow."

"What?" the Doctor blurted in response.

"_Bite the pillow_."

"But—"

"Do you want me to fuck you or not?"

He bit the pillow.

Harry thrust inside him hard and the pillow helped to muffle the pleasured cry that escaped the Doctor's mouth. He wasn't sure whether Harry had planned to take him as quickly as this before or if he had decided to hurry things along because Ganbri was awake, but there was no more teasing to be done or lessons to be taught. His hands held a vice grip on the Doctor's hips and he thrust into him like it was the last moments of his life.

He released any noises into the pillow and his wrists pulled and strained against their bonds as he lost himself to the toxic feeling. Harry was panting hard behind him, groaning in a way that the Doctor knew was not controlled. He decided to struggle a bit, giving Harry an excuse to reach over and grab his hair, growling at him to hold still. He was careful to make sure any sounds that he made still sounded pleasurable and he put a bit more effort into trying to get away, but Harry was strong and held him in place easily. When the Doctor eventually pushed back against him, Harry rewarded him for playing the game well by thrusting into him harder.

Harry's mind suddenly reached out to him like a hand desperately searching for another in the throes of passion and the Doctor quickly went out to meet him. There was nothing solid to be found there—just the echoing sounds of gasps and moans and the feeling of being inside the tight heat that Harry was experiencing. There were a few flashes of imagery. Some of it was what was happening now and the Doctor saw himself bound and bent over, while some of it was from previous nights, and other images were only imagined or hoped for.

He was so caught up in Harry's mind that he didn't even know he was about to come until his thoughts suddenly went blank and his muscles seized up. He felt Harry's intensified pleasure as the Doctor's muscles spasmed and gripped around him and it rippled through him in powerful waves.

Harry made an odd sound as he tried to hold back his moaning and the Doctor felt him explode inside him. He throbbed and pulsed and the pleasure they were each feeling kept echoing back and forth between them even once it was done. They both were trapped, frozen, for a moment as their bodies continued to lock and relax through the reverberating sensations.

When the feeling had passed, Harry slumped against him for a moment, one hand clumsily stroking the Doctor's thigh. They both began to chuckle as they caught their breath and Harry playfully nipped the delicate skin surrounding the Doctor's shevra.

"So did you miss me?"

The Doctor smirked a bit. "_Well_ . . ."

Harry gave him a half-hearted slap on his rear.

"Yes, I missed you!" he laughed. "Stop hitting me!"

"You like it," Harry answered, lifting his weight off the Doctor's body and sitting upright again. "And I like the way it leaves your skin all pink, like you're blushing. It's kinda cute."

"I'm not cute."

"No," Harry agreed quickly. "You are ruggedly handsome and devilishly charming."

"And foxy," he added.

"Foxy?"

"Someone called me foxy once. I'd say I have to agree."

"Alright. _You_ are handsome, charming, and foxy," Harry said slowly, one of his hands reaching down to stroke the heated skin on his back side. "But your little red ass is cute."

He felt Harry reach behind him somewhere, presumably to retrieve a towel that he had set aside, and then pull himself out of the Doctor's body. The Doctor quickly laid on his side—a slightly more dignified position than on his knees with his rear in the air—and struggled with his bound hands to push the blindfold up so that he could see.

"Help me with this," he said, holding his wrists out again. "Do you think he's back in bed?"

"He'd better be," Harry answered as he worked away the knots in the tie. "I told him, very clearly, that he's not to get out of bed anymore unless it's wet or he's sick." The tie came away and the Doctor's hands were free. Harry had already laid a towel on the bed and he rolled onto his back so that he was over top of it, mopping up what he could and staying there for when the rest worked itself out of his body.

The Doctor chuckled and shook his head. "You know how he is. Ganbri doesn't take a rule seriously unless he knows all the 'why's and 'what for's ."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Harry answered, smiling at him a little before nudging his shoulder. "Turn over."

"What for?"

"To make sure I didn't cut you or anything," Harry muttered in return, nudging his shoulder again to make him turn onto his stomach. "You made such a fuss."

"Well, it hurt," the Doctor answered firmly.

He felt Harry's fingers gliding over his shevra, touching it delicately as he inspected it. "Sorry, Lahrre," he said quietly after a moment, then pressed his lips against it.

The Doctor hummed happily, relaxing and letting his eyes close as Harry delivered more soft kisses about his back, gentle fingers caressing his skin. For a man that could be so hard and rough, Harry could be surprisingly tender whenever they were alone like this—all affection and love.

He was almost ready to fall asleep, with Harry's fingertip sliding slowly along his spine, when he realized what Harry hadn't said. "What did you tell him?"

"Hmm?" Harry hummed lazily, bringing his kisses up to the back of the Doctor's neck.

"Ganbri."

There was a split-second's hesitation in the kisses and then Harry continued, lips travelling back down his shoulder blades. "All the usual stuff," he answered calmly, fingers teasing around the Doctor's shevra once more. "He's young and growing and needs to sleep. Getting out of bed disturbs that sleep. You know, the same stuff you tell him."

"He always has arguments for the stuff I tell him," the Doctor answered suspiciously.

"Well . . . I also told him that sometimes grown-ups need alone time."

He said it quickly and quietly, as if he hoped somehow the Doctor would just nod happily and not pay attention to the actual words.

"And when he asked you what we need alone time for?"

Harry sighed and lifted himself up from the mattress, choosing instead to sit on the backs of the Doctor's thighs. "To do grown-up things," he answered, leaning forward over the Doctor's body so he could continue exploring his back with lips and fingers.

"And what are 'grown-up things'?"

"What, did you write the script?" Harry chuckled quietly, in that low, throaty sort of way that he knew the Doctor liked. Suddenly he was aware that Harry wasn't just absent-mindedly touching him anymore, but kneading his fingertips into his knotted muscles.

"Don't try and distract me!" the Doctor barked, reaching a hand back to smack him on the thigh. "You told him it was so we could have sex, didn't you?"

"He asked," Harry answered simply, ignoring the Doctor's previous protest and continuing to massage him.

"And I bet you told him what exactly that means."

"He _asked_."

"Oh, my god. Harry, he's _four_!"

"He's almost five."

"You're right, that's much better."

Harry sighed again and leaned down low, so that his mouth was just inches from the Doctor's ear. "Look, he already knows. Now do you want to bitch about something you can't change or do you want me to rub your back?"

"We can do both, thank you," he answered sharply.

Harry shook his head but carried on massaging him anyway. "Don't worry. I told him all the responsible stuff about being old enough and being in love and all that."

"I can't believe you'd tell him _any_ of it. How am I supposed to look him in the face tomorrow morning knowing that _he_ knows what we were doing in here? God, he's probably _imagined_ it—trying to work out the mechanics and angles in that little scientific brain of his. What if he starts asking _me_ about it?"

"Just answer him," Harry answered with a shrug. "You're his father."

"I don't even like talking to adults about that sort of thing!"

"Said the doctor."

The Doctor began to twist around so he could knock Harry off of him but the older man quickly leaned forward and pinned his shoulders down. He kicked and wrestled and muttered threats at him while Harry simply laughed and fought to keep him down. He was just started to make some progress, getting his elbows up underneath him and lifting, when there was another knock at the door.

Harry slid off of the Doctor with an annoyed huff and flopped onto his back on the mattress beside him. "Ganbri, what did I say to you earlier?" he called out, a little scowl appearing on his face.

"I tried to go back to bed!" Ganbri's little voice protested through the door. The Doctor now understood why he was wise enough not to open the door and felt his face turning a little red.

"Standing outside my door is not trying," Harry answered firmly.

"But, Tokrah, there's no room for me to lie down. I tried to find a spot, but there isn't one."

Harry's frown deepened a little. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the throw up is taking up all the room!"

"What?" Harry sat upright, his head tipping back and an irritated sigh escaping him as he rubbed his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"I'm _not_ sick," Ganbri answered stubbornly. "I just threw up."

"Ugh . . ." Harry dropped back down again and gave the Doctor a lazy nudge. "You go do it."

"No way. I do blood and bones; you can do stomach contents."

"Do as your Master says," Harry replied with another nudge.

"You're not Master anymore. I got what I wanted so now you're Harry again," he answered cheekily.

Harry rolled onto his stomach and looked at the Doctor with a stern look that was betrayed by the amusement in his eyes. "Well, Master or not, I just took care of your son for four days with no help while you were gone," he gave him one last little slap on his back end, light enough that it didn't make any sound that Ganbri might hear. "You do it."

The Doctor grinned at him and lifted himself from the bed. "Smack me again and I'll smack you back," he promised, grabbing a robe to throw on and heading for the door. Ganbri looked up at him with sleepy eyes and a downturned mouth. He had already changed himself into clean pyjamas—no doubt his other ones were already floating in the bathtub with his own concoction of soaps and shampoos.

"I did try to stay in bed, Banni," his son promised solemnly.

"I know. But throwing up, whether you feel sick or not, still counts as being sick," he answered in a gentle voice. "If it happens again, you come tell us."

"Okay."

He reached out his hand and Ganbri readily took it. "Alright, little man," he said, putting on his best sympathetic smile. "Let's just go get it cleaned up."


	7. 2016 - Motherless

**2016**

Ganbri was not stupid. In fact, he was rather smart. He knew that was true because everyone said so. He had been nervous about beginning at school because he was afraid he might be stupid. Especially after Tokrah made such a fuss about wanting keep him at home, Ganbri wondered if maybe Tokrah secretly thought he was stupid. Everyone knows that your family is _supposed_ to tell you nice things about yourself even if they really think differently. And so he was certain that he would meet his new teacher and that she would quickly tell him he was stupid.

But he was not. He'd been going to school for a whole month now, though it felt like much longer, and everyone continued to assure him that he was clever. He worried that part of that may have only been because he could already read when most in his group couldn't. Any other children who could read were deemed 'smart' too. He worried sometimes that they wouldn't think he was smart anymore once everyone else learned to read too. He supposed he would just have to learn something new before that happened.

Still, there were times when he would realize something new—something that had been right in front of him all along—and suddenly he worried that he might not be as smart as he thought he was. It was today, with the October sun still glaring hotly overhead and a blanket of golden leaves on the lawn, that he worried he might be stupid once more.

The night before last there had been a terrible storm that had damaged the shed in the backyard as well as Tokrah's greenhouse. Both of his fathers were out there now, trying to get everything fixed up again, while Ganbri watched them through the window.

Auntie Donna had come over to keep him company while his parents worked and baby Annie kept running up and pulling at his arms to get him to come play. Really, Annie was only a year younger than him but everyone called her the baby, so he called her that too. It made him feel a bit more like one of the grown-ups. She wanted to play Zookeeper and hear stories about going to school because she would be starting next year, but he didn't want to play with her today. He was too busy watching.

He was shooing Annie away and watching his parents and worrying that he might be stupid all because it was only just now that he realized he didn't have a mother.

He was always aware that he had two fathers but any other kid that he met who had two fathers still had a mother _somewhere_. Some kids even had two mothers _and_ two fathers because their parents had decided they wanted to be in love with someone else. There was a girl at school who didn't have a mother but it was because she had died, not because she simply never _had_ one.

Sometimes the kids at school would argue about how babies were born and the only thing they could ever agree on was that a baby came out of its mother's tummy. Ganbri didn't come out of any lady's tummy. He didn't come out of a tummy at all. Banni told him that he had grown on Tokrah's chest. He'd even seen it in an old photo from Banni and Tokrah's wedding—just a funny bump under Tokrah's shirt. How was he supposed to explain _that_ to human children when they asked him where his mum was?

He thought once to say that Auntie Donna was his mum, just because she acted like it so much sometimes, but everyone would know that wasn't true. Donna told everyone that she was Banni's sister and she had her own kid now anyway. It would be strange for a lady to give her baby to her brother and then just make another one.

All the boys and girls at school had mothers, whether they knew them or saw them or whether they were still alive, they still _had_ one. Everyone except Ganbri. That was strange, wasn't it? Wasn't that a bad thing if he was supposed to be pretending to be human?

The kids at school liked to ask about his dads often, mostly because they didn't know what it was like. Becky had suggested that maybe one of his dads was more like a mum than the other one and that one would be his mother. But he couldn't begin to imagine which one.

He sat at the window, watching them so carefully, trying to decide and finding it annoyingly difficult. He tried to think of what made Auntie Donna seem like a mother—she cooked and cleaned and fussed over how people looked and she was very afraid of bugs and things. Uncle Shaun went to work most days, fixed anything that broke, lifted heavy things, and reached for things that were too high for Donna to reach.

Tokrah did most of the cleaning but it was Banni who was always trying to fix Ganbri's hair or clothes. They both were good at fixing things and neither of them were afraid of bugs. Tokrah was strong and could lift heavy things, but Banni was tall and got down things that were too high to reach. Tokrah did a lot of the cooking but Banni cooked too. Tokrah went to work almost every day while Banni was home more often than not but, when he did work, he worked for a _long_ time. Sometimes Ganbri had to go stay at Donna and Shaun's or at Grandfather's whenever Tokrah was at work for a whole week because Banni was away.

Right now they were both outside, covered in dirt with bits of sticks or leaves in their hair. Tokrah was passing big pieces of wood up to Banni, who was repairing the big hole in the shed roof. They had scratches on their arms from the work, some of which were even bleeding a little, but they didn't seem to notice. If Auntie Donna had cut her arm, everybody would know about it.

Tommy had even gone as far as to suggest that maybe they weren't like 'real' married people because they were both boys. He said that it was always the girls who got all mushy and lovey-dovey and that's why married people kiss and stuff—because the girl makes them. But boys aren't like that so two boys wouldn't do the kissing stuff and so they wouldn't count as married. And if they didn't count as married, then they didn't count as Ganbri's parents.

But Banni and Tokrah kissed each other all the time. Tokrah always gave Banni a kiss before he left for work and another when he came home. They would have long kisses if Banni was going away to work for a few days. Sometimes they even kissed for no reason, and they even held hands too. More than that, Ganbri was clever enough to notice things that other kids didn't; like that there are certain ways that people look at someone they love, certain ways that they move or stand or speak. He had a feeling that Tom just didn't know what he was talking about. He thought Tom was just stupid and rude.

The worst was when they would ask which one was his _real_ dad because, with humans, only one lady and one man at a time can make a baby. Ganbri never knew what to say then and would just say he didn't know. He felt like if he said that Banni was his real dad that it would hurt Tokrah's feelings, but if he said that it was Tokrah, Banni's feeling would be hurt. He wasn't allowed to tell people at school that they weren't human. If he could, he would just tell them all that two boys could have a baby together if they were Time Lords.

Since he had started going to school, he was beginning to think that it would just be a lot easier if he had been human, with a _real_ mother and a _real_ father, just like everyone else. He had never really thought about it much before then.

Auntie Donna flopped down on the couch next to him, on her knees so that she could look over the back and out the window just like he was. "What is it then?" she asked, gently bumping him with her shoulder.

It would make Banni sad to ask these questions, he knew, and it would make Tokrah angry at the other kids. Annie was playing with her toys on the other side of the room, not paying attention. He quickly decided that he could talk to Donna about it and it wouldn't get repeated.

"I don't have a mother," he answered plainly.

"So?" Donna answered with matched simplicity.

"Well, there's lots of kids at school . . ." He wasn't quite sure how to word it. What was it he even wanted to ask?

"What?" Donna said with a new tone of concern to her voice. "Are they picking on you?"

"_No_," he answered firmly. "They just ask a lot of questions."

"About your dads?"

"Yeah."

He watched through the window as Banni's grip slipped on the wooden plank he was holding. He scrambled to catch it but failed. Tokrah had acted quickly but the plank still managed to catch him in the shoulder as it fell. Donna gasped loudly when she saw it hit and Banni nearly fell off the ladder as he hurried to get down. But Tokrah just did a funny sort of jog around in a circle, holding a hand to his shoulder with a face that looked like he was groaning a bit.

Ganbri tried to work out what he wanted to ask as they watched. Banni immediately grabbed at Tokrah's head to make sure it hadn't been damaged, his face very serious while Tokrah kept shaking his head and lightly trying to move Banni's hands away. He couldn't hear them from inside, but he was sure that Tokrah was insisting he was fine and probably making some joke about being too old to move quick enough. He could feel his father's pain from inside like he felt a breeze in the air—it had hurt him but it was nothing he couldn't walk off or work through.

Within a few seconds Tokrah had managed to make Banni laugh and they both looked a lot more relaxed as Banni continued a quick check for injury. He saw Tokrah gesturing at his right shoulder and he quickly took his shirt off to let Banni look. There was a scrape down the shoulder and half way down his back. It was bleeding a little but it looked like nothing compared to the vicious scars that slashed across the back of his entire body. He was certain that none of the kids at school had mothers with scars like that.

He knew, as Banni pecked a couple of quick kisses on Tokrah's face, that they would be coming inside soon. Banni would insist on dressing the wound while Tokrah would insist on finishing the work first. He had maybe two minutes before Banni won and they returned to the house. If he wanted to ask, he had to ask now.

"_Why_ don't I have a mother?"

Donna didn't even pause to think about it. "Because you have them."

He saw Tokrah turn back around as Banni continued to fuss over him. He could see the scar on his chest now—a scar from the day Ganbri was born. Tokrah didn't seem to like that scar much as he always seemed to try to cover it up. Maybe Tokrah wished that some mother had given birth to Ganbri, because then he wouldn't have that scar.

Donna sighed, knowing that she hadn't given him a satisfying answer. "Because you're a Time Lord."

"Why do I have to be a Time Lord?"

Donna turned to look at him with a sad smile. "Why do you have brown eyes?"

He didn't know. He'd never thought about that either. "Because Banni and Tokrah have brown eyes?"

"And why do you have black hair?"

Neither of his parents had black hair. "I don't know."

"Because you were born that way. No more reason than that."

He slumped down on the couch a bit so that just his eyes were peeking over and through the window. Tokrah had picked up an old rag and tried to wipe away the bit of blood on his back but more seeped out a few seconds later. Banni was pointed at it animatedly, his mouth moving very quickly, while Tokrah was tipping his head back with his eyes closed and mouth open in a sigh. Any moment now.

"Don't you think it would have been better if I had a mum?"

"Why would that be better?"

"We're supposed to be human," Ganbri answered with a little shrug. "Everyone says that I must have a real mum somewhere. They ask me who my real dad is too."

Donna's hand was on his shoulder now and she spoke quietly and warmly. "They are_ both_ your real dad."

"I _know_," Ganbri said with a bit of a whine, getting annoyed now that she didn't understand him. "But it would be easier if I could say one of them was my proper dad."

Auntie Donna turned off her knees so that she could sit on the couch facing him, with her arms crossed and eyebrow raised. "Fine. Pick one."

He hadn't expected that. "What?"

"Pick one," Donna repeated, gesturing with her head towards the window. "You have a look and pick one to be your real dad and the other to not be."

He looked, watching the way Banni took hold of Tokrah's hands and was trying to pull him towards the house while Tokrah very reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled. He thought of how terribly it would hurt their feelings if they found out he made such a choice, then he realized that it was hurting his own feelings to try.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

They were coming towards the house now. Tokrah's eyes turned towards the window and saw them. He smiled. Ganbri waved his hand in return.

"I don't want one of them to _not_ be my dad."

"But what about being human?" Donna pushed gently. "What about having a mother somewhere? You can only have one real dad if you're human."

He thought a little harder about it but he still didn't like it. It didn't make sense that he would have to say one of his fathers wasn't a proper one just so that he could say he had _any_ proper parents.

"That's stupid," he said quietly.

"It is," Donna agreed. "I'm not your Banni's real sister or your real aunt. And Granddad isn't really either of your dads' grandfather. Jack isn't actually your uncle. Does that mean we're not a real family?"

"No," he answered quickly.

"Then what makes us a real family?"

He looked at Donna's face and couldn't imagine a life without her. Donna had always been there to listen to his worries and teach him to make things and to give him the best hugs. Granddad would always ask him about his projects and teach him new games and put on funny hats and costumes on the holidays and sing songs. Jack would wrestle him and let Ganbri win but he treated him like a grown-up too, and was always teaching him the safest things to do in a bad situation.

"We're a family because we love each other."

Donna smiled at him as the door to the yard opened. "That's right," she said, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. "Don't you ever forget it. Don't let the kids at your school forget it either."

She stood up from the couch and walked around the corner towards the kitchen, where Banni and Tokrah were noisily kicking their work boots off. Annie picked up one of her dolls and clutched it to her chest as she followed her mother, rushing to the kitchen to see what was happening.

"What did you do this time?" she asked loudly.

"He's trying to kill me," Tokrah answered calmly.

"I'm not! I _am not_," Banni protested quickly and loudly. "I just slipped, that was all. It's not like I bashed your head in or—"

"Only because I moved!"

"Oh, Doctor, that is _so_ much blood. Poor Harry won't be able to do a thing for a week with an injury like that." Annie backed up her mother's comment by making a frightened squeal that Ganbri knew was fake.

"It's not that bad," Banni answered immediately, though there was some doubt to his voice now.

"You know, it does hurt a lot," Tokrah said next with a forced groan. "I'm actually starting to feel dizzy. Oh, I'm so cold."

There was the sound of a light slap on flesh. "That's not funny," Banni's voice answered sternly. "Stop it, both of you."

Ganbri sat on the couch listening as Auntie Donna and Tokrah laughed, poking fun at Banni as he fretted and apologized. Eventually he joined them, helping himself to a glass of milk and asking Banni if he could have some biscuits to share with the baby. He sat at the table next to Donna, while Tokrah leaned over it a little so that Banni could clean and dress his wound.

They made jokes and retold old stories of other silly accidents and injuries. Annie squealed at all the right moments. Tokrah nicked a couple of Ganbri's biscuits when he wasn't looking and then fervently denied it even as his mouth was still full of them.

He saw that dreadful scar on Tokrah's exposed chest but, as they were now, Tokrah seemed to have forgotten all about it. He was too busy talking to the others in the room and making a game of trying to sneak away more of Ganbri's biscuits to even remember that the scar was sitting there for everyone to see.

He leaned against Donna and slipped his arm around her waist. She put her arm around him in return, giving him an extra little squeeze, and let her chin rest on the top of his head. Annie noticed that a hug was happening without her and quickly climbed onto Auntie Donna's lap to join in. He felt a warmth radiating from her mind to his own that made him feel comfortable and happy.

He felt it from everyone.


	8. 2017 - Haunted House

**2017**

Ganbri was swinging his feet back and forth as he sat on the bench, looking up at his Banni with perfectly innocent eyes. The Doctor saw no traces of guilt, nor did he feel any. Either his son had earned his father's ability to lie, or there had been some sort of misunderstanding.

"What did you _do_?" he mouthed silently.

Ganbri simply shrugged his shoulders and continued swinging his feet

He spent the next minute looking for evidence. No bruises or scrapes or dirt on his clothes, so he doubted that he had been in a fight. He'd been paying close attention to his school work so he doubted that it could have been his grades.

"Did you glow?" he mouthed next

Ganbri's eyebrows pushed together and his head tilted slightly to the side. "What?"

"Did you _glow_?" the Doctor repeated, moving his mouth more carefully this time.

Ganbri simply shook his head and carried on swinging his feet.

The Doctor frowned. He must have done _something_.

"Mister Noble?"

He put on his best charming smile and shook the teacher's hand. "Doctor, actually."

"Yes, of course," she smiled kindly. "Dr. Noble, I'm Emily Reeds. Can I call you John?"

He hesitated for just a second. Though having a proper name was necessary for their life on Earth, he never liked it very much. He wanted to tell her that calling him the Doctor was fine, but the look Ganbri shot him begged him not to.

"Absolutely."

"Wonderful. Just in here, if you would."

She opened the door to her office and he gave Ganbri a quick nod before going in. Mrs. Reeds looked rather young and still bothered to curl her hair and do her makeup, but the state of her office suggested she'd been a teacher a long time.

The walls were papered with dozens of finger paintings and crayon drawings. Small, lumpy figurines of coloured clay that had clearly been crafted by the hands of small children stood guard over her stacks of books and filing cabinets. There was a dream catcher in the window that looked as though it had been made by a child as well.

Emily sat behind her desk and tucked her bouncing brown curls behind her ears. "Please, have a seat."

"What's he been doing then?" the Doctor asked in a light tone as he sat down. "Trying to convince the staff he's a substitute teacher?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Emily answered, smiling. "Ganbri is very well behaved and a very good student, really. It's just, um, I would like to talk about some of your son's behaviour."

Uh, oh.

"Of course. What sort of behaviour?"

"Well, he seems to have a very active imagination . . ."

Oh, no, no, no. What did he say? Was he telling stories about the TARDIS? Time travel? Aliens? Was he using telepathy to try to impress people?

Mrs. Reeds continued slowly, choosing her words with obvious care. "With a child as creative as Ganbri is, it can sometimes be difficult to tell which of his stories are make-believe and which aren't. I was hoping to clear some of it up so that I can know how best to communicate with him."

"Of course," he tried his best to smile without looking nervous. "What sort of things has he been saying?"

"Well, the first thing is that he seems to have his own language," she said in a voice that sounded almost apologetic. "It's very intricate—the writing especially. He insists that it is a real language and has been teaching some of the other children—"

"Gallifreyan?" the Doctor interrupted.

Emily looked at him in surprise. "Yes," she said, looking embarrassed all of a sudden. "Sorry, I just thought—"

"It's, um . . . a rather unknown language," the Doctor said cautiously. "You only ever hear it spoken in this tiny little village in South Africa. I don't there's more than a hundred people who speak it."

She looked even more surprised now. "But a six-year-old in Chiswick does?"

"Yes, actually," he cleared his throat and shifted a little in his seat. "You see, my husband and I spent a lot of time in South Africa doing peace missions and clean water projects and all that. Anyway, we stayed with one village long enough to learn their dialect and Harry thought it might be a good idea to teach Ganbri. It's hard to come by translators who speak proper Gallifreyan, you know."

She stared at him a moment, blinking, as though she wasn't quite sure what to say. "I just . . . sorry, I just didn't know that, actually."

"No, it's fine. Most people don't. The name Ganbri is actually Gallifreyan for 'star', so there you go."

"Yes, he told me that too. How very interesting."

She did sound like she believed him now and so he was able to relax a bit. They covered a few other topics—primarily, things like Ganbri telling the other children stories about 'monsters' (which the Doctor knew, from their descriptions, to be actual alien species) and claiming that his teacher had their facts wrong in just about every subject.

Most of it was easily explained away, while some others he had to promise to have a discussion with his son. Overall, nothing disastrous had been reported. The Doctor was mostly just glad to learn that his son hadn't done something like expel time energy or flaunt his telepathic abilities.

It seemed as though they were winding down and the Doctor was preparing to leave, when Emily raised one more issue.

"About a week ago, I gave the children their regular writing assignments," she said slowly, looking rather uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I asked them to tell me about someone in their life that they think is interesting."

Oh, _no_.

"Oh, yeah. Who did he write about then?" he asked as casually as he could manage.

Uncle Jack, the immortal man? Boris, the living shadow? Auntie Donna, the woman who saved the universe? He tried to think of every story they'd ever told Ganbri and tried to work out who he would deem the most interesting.

"He wrote about a ghost that lives in his house."

"What?"

"I know," Emily answered, shaking her head as she reached into her desk to pull out the assignment. "I feel silly even bringing it up. Normally, I would just assume he was telling stories like all boys his age do. The only thing was . . . some of the things he says about his other father raised some concerns."

"He wrote about Harry?"

If Mrs. Reeds hadn't offered the paper to him, the Doctor might have ripped it from her hands. His eyes scanned over the large and uneven writing, drinking in the words.

_There is a ghost that lives in my house and he is my friend. His name is Berran and he is a nice boy._

"He wrote this?" the Doctor asked in shock, unable to tear his eyes away from the name. "Did you ask him about it? Did he say where he got the story from?"

"He says it's not a story," Emily answered quietly. "He says it's real."

_Berran is only three but he has been three for a long time so he's not really three. He only looks like he's three because he's a ghost and dead people don't grow older._

How the hell did Ganbri know about Berran? The Doctor flipped over to the next page and saw a crayon drawing of what he assumed was meant to be Ganbri playing with him. He flipped to the page after that and continued reading.

_I like Berran very much. My Tokrah also likes him. He tells us to play nicely because we are brothers so I think Berran must have been Banni and Tokrah's boy before he died and became a ghost and they had me. I don't know how to be a brother for a ghost but I promised I would be a good one._

"Do you see where my concerns are?" Mrs. Reeds asked him with a sympathetic sounding voice. "I'm just not sure how much of it is Ganbri's imagination or—"

"Mrs. Reeds, you met my husband at the start of term, did you not?" the Doctor asked, sounding a bit more stern than perhaps he had meant to.

"Yes, I did."

"I believe he explained to you then that he has some anxiety problems and that Ganbri might ask questions or otherwise speak to you about them?"

"Yes, I just wasn't sure—"

"My husband's anxieties are the result of a hard life—one which he does not like advertised."

She looked at him with uncertainty before answering quietly, "I understand."

"Harry did have a son named Berran once. Let's just say that some areas of South Africa are not safe places for children."

"_Oh_! Oh, gosh, of course. Oh, I am so sorry, John."

"Evidently, Harry has been having some relapses without my knowledge and Ganbri has had some difficulty understanding some of the things he says. I'll be sure to have a conversation with the both of them. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

He stood up, making it clear that the conversation was over. He understood why a teacher might be worried over this sort of thing but it didn't mean that he had any desire to continue discussing it. The loss of Berran was one of the most devastating events Harry had ever experienced and something that personal was not welcome to be asked about by strangers.

"Of course, of course," she stammered quickly, rising to her feet. "If there is anything, _anything_, I can do, please, don't hesitate to ask. If you like, I can give you the phone number of a _great_ counsellor—"

"No, thank you, that won't be needed."

He tucked the writing assignment into the inside pocket of his jacket and spent a moment exchanging parting pleasantries. Ganbri was still swinging his feet and staring at nothing when he emerged from the office and said his last goodbye to Mrs. Reeds.

Ganbri didn't even ask him what the meeting had been about as they walked out to his car. Not even after they had climbed inside and begun the drive home. He just sat there happily, without a care in the world.

The Doctor turned the words over and over in his head. _He is my friend_, Ganbri had written. That meant that this hadn't been a one-off.

"Ganbri," the Doctor began slowly. "Your teacher told me that you're friends with a ghost in our house."

"Yeah," Ganbri answered simply, his eyes trained on the world outside his window.

"Do you actually see him? Or does Tokrah let you know when he's there?"

"I see him. At first, I didn't. I heard Tokrah talking to someone and I wanted to know who. Tokrah's thoughts showed me how to see him."

"And what does your Tokrah say when he sees you talking to Berran too?"

Ganbri shrugged. "He tells us to go play outside or something like that."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, he doesn't say very much. Sometimes he says we have to play nicely together and share because we're brothers. And sometimes he tells me that I should help Berran learn his letters because I'm bigger than him."

"Ganbri, do you remember when I told you that sometimes Tokrah has nightmares when he's awake?"

"Yeah . . . I thought Berran might be one of those, but Tokrah doesn't get sad. He likes it when Berran is there so I thought he couldn't be a nightmare. He must be a ghost."

"There is no ghost," the Doctor assured him. "Sometimes your Tokrah sees things without getting upset by them. That's why it's hard for him to tell, because it can be anything. It's up to you and me to help him see which things are real."

"How do you know he's not a ghost?"

"We could test," the Doctor offered. "If Berran really is a ghost, then he exists by himself. We should be able to find him without Tokrah around and we should be able to see him without connecting with Tokrah first. Want to try that?"

Berran thought about it silently for a minute. "I like Berran," he said quietly. "He's my friend."

Sometimes Ganbri reminded him too much of himself.

"I know," the Doctor answered. "But is it more important to have a pretend friend or to help your Tokrah when he's sick?"

Ganbri thought about it a minute longer. "I can try."

"Thank you."

It made him feel a little sick to his stomach to think about it. How long had Ganbri been playing with and growing attached to the shade of a boy who'd been dead for years? Mostly he wanted to know if Harry knew what was happening or not. He supposed it was possible that Harry might not even be aware that he even imagined anything. With Ganbri going along with the delusion, he might not have had any of his usual triggers to alert him to the fact that he was hallucinating.

"What happened to him?" Ganbri asked after a moment. "Why is he dead?"

"He got hurt."

"You mean that somebody hurt him."

The Doctor chose to ignore that. "And then he got sick . . . and he died before Tokrah could help him get better."

Ganbri fell silent again. His eyes were scanning the people they passed on the streets, his jaw moving as though he were chewing on something that wasn't there. The Doctor could practically hear the cogs turning in his head and he didn't like it at all.

Ganbri had reached the age that he realized his parents sometimes lie or else tell half-truths. Whenever he asked about sensitive things now, he would sit quietly and carefully filter through every word that he was told, picking the lies out.

"Did I have other brothers?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered, feeling his hearts beat a little faster and hoping that this conversation didn't go much further. "Well, half-brothers anyway. And half-sisters too."

"You won't tell me about them." It was a statement, not a question.

"Not today," he answered guiltily. "But one day, yes. One day, I'll tell you everything . . . when you're old enough."

Ganbri nodded his head, his lips pursing slightly as he tried not to sulk. The boy was smart; he already knew that Berran couldn't possibly be more than a hallucination. It was a horrible feeling to have to say goodbye to a friend forever.

Maybe it was too lonely for him, the Doctor wondered. By his own standards, their lives were busy and happily filled with people that they loved. But he supposed to a child that had always had that handful of individuals, it didn't feel quite so fulfilling—especially when Annabelle was the only one even close to his age.

His mind wandered away as they silently drove back to their little white house. They were settled on Earth for now and planning to stay for a while. They had tried to avoid getting into trouble as long as Ganbri was young. If it was already the lifestyle they were living, what was a few more years?

Maybe he should talk to Harry. Maybe they should consider giving Ganbri some brothers and sisters.

Hold on . . .

"Dad?"

Ganbri's voice snapped him back to reality. Somehow he'd driven them home and parked the car without really being aware of it. Ganbri was already out of the car, standing there with his backpack in one hand and the edge of the car door in the other.

"You coming?"

How had he forgotten for so long? You put something off for a day and before you know it . . .

"Ganbri, listen," he said slowly, not quite sure if he should say anything before speaking to Harry. "What if there was . . . a _possibility_ . . . that you could maybe . . . meet one of your sisters?"

Ganbri blinked at him—thinking, filtering. "You mean they're still alive?"

"_One_ of them," the Doctor corrected quickly. "Maybe. I thought she had died but then I learned some things that I didn't know before. We could look for her. Do you want to?"

"Yes," the boy blurted without hesitation. "What's her name?"

The Doctor smiled at his eagerness. "Her name is Jenny."


	9. 2018 - The Best Medicine

**2018**

It was the way they looked at him—like they were so terribly hurt. It didn't help. The dreams looked just as hurt as the realities. They argued for their own existence just as hard. The only thing that helped was to try to remember.

How had he gotten to this place? Why was he there? Why was everyone else there? _How_ did they get there? Then he would have to search his memory, looking for something that would pick apart the fabric of a possible delusion. When was the last time he saw that person? Were they an enemy? Were they dead?

If he asked himself enough questions, eventually he would find a hole in the story. Eventually he could prove to himself that they weren't real. Or they were. Sometimes they were real.

The one that stood before him now was the last of at least a dozen others he had already determined to be hallucinations. Like the others, this one talked too much, trying to convince him of a certain reality. They all said those sorts of things. He knew now that he couldn't trust anything he was told. He had to figure it out by himself.

What did he see that was real? What was around him that he could not doubt? He knew this room. Somewhere, in a part of his mind that was trying to hide, he knew that he knew this room. It was definitely Earth, and the arrangement of layer upon layer of seats told him it was a lecture hall. Why was he in a lecture hall? What part of Earth?

"Just shut up, would you?" he snapped irritably.

"Okay. Sorry."

He hated the way he was being looked at. He didn't like the way those hands kept assuming they could touch him. He slapped them away for the hundredth time, growling in annoyance. At least it was quiet now. No more mutterings of someone who was clearly not going to help him make any useful deductions. Stupid.

Now . . . why was he on Earth? What was he doing the last time he was here?

His mind travelled through an immense library of memories, trying to organize and file nine-hundred years into chronological order.

_Harry_. The name Harry came to mind. Why Harry? Was Harry important or was it just a random name? Best to look around and see if there were any connections, he supposed. The room was fairly empty aside from the seats, really. There was a bin by the door, and another by the desk at the front of the room. The desk was fairly tidy, with only a book and a couple of papers littering it.

_My wallet_, a small part of his mind whispered. His hands quickly checked himself, realizing for the first time that he was wearing Earth clothes—a pair of jeans and a white button shirt. _Dreadful, _was all he could think of it. He found a wallet in his back pocket and quickly opened it up.

"Yes!" that voice piped up again excitedly. "Yes, that's a good idea."

"I said, shut up!" he barked in return.

He glared at the offending person angrily for a moment, just to be sure that they would stay quiet this time. He didn't know that face, he was sure of it. He'd never seen it before in his life. And yet, just like the room, it seemed familiar somewhere. It _smelled_ familiar. But it was just on the tip of his tongue, not quite fitting into place.

The wallet had an I.D. card inside—another vaguely familiar face. "Hey," he said aloud, holding the card out to be inspected. "Is that what my face looks like?"

He was answered with a quick and enthusiastic nod. He looked at the picture on the I.D. again a little closer. Not bad, he supposed. He was younger this time around than he had been in a while. Bit of a big nose, but not bad. Harold Mott, the card said. _Harry_.

"Is my name Harry?"

"Yes. Everyone calls you Harry."

Right. So he was on Earth, wearing Earth clothes, in a lecture hall, with a proper identity card and everything. It did feel right. But then, his imaginings always felt right until they didn't.

Harry. He picked that name himself. When did he pick the name Harry? He thought about the face on the card and the name and something clicked into place. He was going by Harold Saxon then though, not Mott. He wondered why he changed it.

Then he remembered why he had come to Earth as Harold Saxon and he remembered why he failed. Then he remembered the face in front of him.

"Doctor?"

"Yes," he answered eagerly, suddenly sounding extremely relieved. "Yes, that's me."

He decided to pay attention to him now, looking him up and down. He wasn't doing bad in his new body either. Also a bit young, also a bit of a big nose, but certainly not the worst body he'd ever had.

The next step then. Could he conclude whether or not the Doctor was really there? He couldn't recall watching him die. He tried to think of the last time he'd seen him. He saw him in the junkyard, looking so very solemn with that long coat of his fluttering in the wind.

No, no. It was sooner than that. He remembered the two of them talking in the TARDIS, while the Doctor removed a cast on his leg. He put his weight on the leg in question and felt no pain or discomfort, so that injury must have been healed long enough to take its aches with it.

Some old man—Wilfred, was it? Stacks of books in an unfurnished bedroom, cleaning up cups in his old Bio Lab, his fingers sliding shining scissor blades through a forest of dark hair. His hearts sped up slightly, remembering the exciting moment when he realized that the Doctor wanted to be kissed and he just had to work up the nerve to do it.

Something else clicked into place and, before he even looked to see it, he knew that there was a golden ring on his left hand. He stole a glance and saw the Doctor wore one too.

For a second, he held his breath.

"That's right," the Doctor said, noticing where he had been looking. "You and me. It's been nine years, Harry."

"You keep your mouth shut!" he snapped.

The Doctor could be dead for all he knew. He couldn't let that small moment of joyous victory make him forget what he was doing. He couldn't decide to choose a reality simply because it was one that he wanted. There were some in that crowd of dead and forgotten people standing to the side of the room that he had so _wanted_ to be real. It was so important to focus. He was almost done. He had almost weeded everything out.

His eyes travelled to where Kahlia stood, silent and serene, her pale skin rippling with light and colour. The Doctor was with him when he'd seen her die. They were both covered in so much blood and the stench of it filled his senses. Everything had hurt. He had been so sore and so tired and all he had wanted was to get home. He had just wanted to take the Doctor and his children and go home.

His children. He remembered that he had four children now. And only one that he hadn't confirmed dead.

"Where is he?" he asked, turning his eyes away from the known ghosts and back to the last, questionable figure. "Ganbri. Where's Ganbri?"

"He's at school," the Doctor answered quickly, in the calmest voice he could muster.

The Doctor might not be real. He had to remember that. He couldn't trust anything he said until he had figured out if he was real or not. He could be dead. Ganbri could dead. He had to know that. He had to be prepared for that.

When did he see Ganbri last? He was giving him a bath. No, that memory must have been years ago. Ganbri wasn't a toddler anymore. He sorted through memories of watching films and checking homework and building engines out of scraps.

Finally he found one in which he was looking at himself in the mirror, lifting his chin to check that he had shaved properly.

"_Jeans today?"_ the Doctor's voice echoed in his memory.

That's right. He had felt like being a bit lazy that morning. He didn't want to wear a suit or a tie; he'd been too much of a proper grown-up lately. Jeans and a dress shirt would do just fine. He remembered the Doctor picking up the basket of dirty laundry and leaving the room. He remembered hearing the TV from downstairs and shouting at Ganbri to stop watching it and get ready for school.

He was wearing those clothes today. That's why he was in a lecture hall. He worked here. He _taught_ here. He was Professor Mott in this place. His mind slid the memories back into their own positions. He could remember every moment of this day, from tossing his tie aside in the morning, to chatting in the car while the Doctor drove him to work, right up until now. Not a single memory was missing. Every one of them made perfect sense.

The Doctor must have seen the sudden clarity in his eyes because a grin broke out across his face. "Hi."

"Hi."

The other Time Lord stepped forward hesitantly, carefully reaching towards Harry to touch him on the arm. Harry quickly took the hand in his own, to show that the touch was welcomed.

"Where are my students?" he asked, looking at all the empty seats and trying to remember what had happened. The crowd of ghosts still stood on the other side of the room, watching silently. Some, like Kahlia, smiled in a strange, blissfully oblivious way, like they didn't even know that they were only figments of someone's imagination. Others, like his father, scowled as though offended that they were being ignored.

"In their other classes, I suppose," the Doctor answered. "You called me earlier and said you weren't feeling too well, but you kept yourself together until you finished your lecture. They didn't see you."

"Good."

Relief. He would have to answer no awkward questions. He would have to endure no stares. No one had seen. No one had been hurt.

He glanced at his watch. "I have another lecture in twenty minutes."

"Will you be alright? Why don't you come home with me, Harry?"

"It's my last one today," he answered with a sigh. "I'll see you after."

"Okay."

The Doctor looked at him for a moment, the warmth in his eyes not quite enough to mask the concern. Then, without warning or permission, that tall, skinny frame of his was pulling Harry into a hug. He barely managed to utter a word of protest before he gave up and simply stood there, with his arms dangling loosely at his sides while the Doctor embraced him.

"Don't pout," the Doctor chuckled as he released Harry. "I'll pick you up later."

"Yes, yes, thank you," Harry cleared his throat and shooed the Doctor away with his hands.

The Doctor was always a great help whenever Harry had an attack, and when they were home alone together his affections afterwards were usually welcomed. But here he was supposed to be a normal man with a regular work schedule and an attitude that demanded no nonsense from his students and colleagues. It simply wouldn't do if someone were to walk in and see him being coddled by his husband.

The next class came and went. None of them had shown any indication that they could see the group of people lingering at the side of the room, and none of them seemed to notice that Harry could. He stayed focused on his lecture and kept his memories organized in an orderly fashion. No one need ever know that he was sick at all.

The Doctor arrived earlier than usual. Most days, he would arrive fifteen minutes after the end of Harry's work day and wait in the car outside for him to emerge. Today, as Harry packed up his notes and answered the questions of the few students who always seemed to approach him after class, the Doctor appeared.

Some of the students knew him, if only by name, and said a polite hello which the Doctor always returned with more enthusiasm than was called for. The Time Lord worked his way through the flow of exiting students and down the stairs towards Harry's desk.

"Hi, excuse me. Hello!" the Doctor said in his best friendly voice, leaning his face in a bit too close to the students around Harry's desk and waving his hand at them.

Harry glared at him as the students returned the greeting. "We were having a conversation, John," he said, completely lacking amusement.

"Yes, I can see that. So sorry to interrupt," the Doctor turned his charming smile back to the students who were now staring at him. "Yeah, hi, sorry, it's just that Harry—"

"_John_," Harry practically growled at him.

"Oh, right. Sorry. I meant _Professor Mott_," the Doctor corrected himself, still smiling happily. "Has really had a rough day."

"Can you just go wait in the car?"

"See, you can really tell," the Doctor continued, making a face for the students that rested somewhere between embarrassed and apologetic. "And because I'm his husband—I'm his husband, by the way. John; nice to meet you—I'd really like to take him home and spoil him a bit. Otherwise he'll just be grumpy tomorrow and that's not really good for anyone, is it?"

Harry sighed, resting his elbows on his desk so that he could drop his head into his hands. When none of his students said anything—apparently too stunned by the wildly inappropriate overgrown child before them—he decided that the best thing to do was to give the Doctor what he wanted.

"Why don't you all just email me your questions," he suggested with another resigned sigh. "I'll answer them when I get home."

The students muttered words of agreement and thanks, threw the Doctor a few more curious and amused looks, and hurriedly left.

"Wonderful," the Doctor said happily as he waved them goodbye.

"That was so inappropriate."

"Not as inappropriate as the day you chased Jack through the TARDIS naked."

He quickly looked up to make sure that his students had actually left the room and not been around to hear that. "I'm their teacher. I have a reputation to hold."

"I know. Now you get to be known as the professor with the positively dashing husband."

The Doctor pulled his hand out from behind his back and placed a picture frame on Harry's desk. It was a slightly older picture from a couple of years ago, but it was one of his favourites. There was the Doctor with his impish grin and Ganbri resting on his shoulders. Yellow and orange leaves were falling around them, and Ganbri held one in his tiny hand.

"To look at when you're having a bad day," the Doctor said quietly. "And to remind your students of how dashing I am. You know, in case you start losing your reputation."

All he could do was smile and shake his head. "Alright, you win," he said in defeat, standing from his desk and letting the Doctor's hand slip into his own. "But only because you promised to spoil me."

"I only said I'd spoil you a _bit_."

As the Doctor cheerfully chatted away, teasing him and provoking him, Harry felt the old demons in his head settle down to rest for a while. He couldn't help but chuckle at some of the ridiculous things that came out of the Doctor's mouth and part of him was already thinking of the stunned look on his students' faces with amusement.

As he closed the door to his lecture hall behind them, he forgot to look and see if any of his ghosts were still there.

* * *

So this is the last chapter of this series before the appearance of Jack Nista. I am going to write his story but, as it will take a few chapters, I will not be posting it as a part of the Domestic Life series. Instead, it will be appearing as its own story, titled The Light of Mu'atin. I asked for the opinions of those of you following me on tumblr (nirah10) if I should simply take a break from Domestic Life until I have completed The Light of Mu'atin or try to write both at the same time. The answers I got asked for me to attempt both, so that's what I'm going to do :) I will post the first chapter of The Light of Mu'atin tonight.

Just know that the next chapter of Domestic Life will include Nista. I'll try to avoid including anything that won't make sense, but I can't guarantee it :P My priority will definitely be to finish The Light of Mu'atin before I go too much further with Domestic Life though. Please remember that requests are very welcome and please remember to review :)


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